


Do the Trick

by chelou



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alex is apart of French balloon squad, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Jealous Eliott, M/M, because there aren't enough characters in skam France, coffee shop AU, elliot is at University, everyone flirts with lucas, frat boy Elliot, have to make oc's, how can they not though i mean look at him, lucas is in high school, pining eliott, pining lucas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelou/pseuds/chelou
Summary: Lucas works at a coffee shop, Elliot's a frat boy. That's all you need to know.





	1. Do the Trick pt1

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Dr. Dog - Do the Trick I sincerely recommend :)

Lucas has two different groups of friends that he hangs out with. There were his best friends, the ones he went to school with - Yann, Basile and Arthur, and then there were the ones that went to the university that he worked with at the coffee shop. Pretty often he would hang out with those guys  _ outside  _ of work and go to some parties together, and they had introduced him to  _ their  _ friends, now also becoming Lucas’ and it was a nice little third family he had managed to create.

They all got on well - took to him quickly, an easy acceptance. It was like he had known them all for as long as they had all known each other, and they treated him equally, but also as a little brother. Looking out for him and whatnot, giving him advice. Taking care of him. Sometimes it was a good thing, sometimes it was not. 

Tonight, it was not. 

He just wanted to get drunk. That’s all. It was a long fucking day and all he wanted to do was drink it all away. Drown it in alcohol. But  _ no.  _ They wouldn’t let him. He was “too young” and they weren’t at the frat house where they knew he wouldn’t have any trouble - they were at someone else’s party with a bunch of people who were strangers to him and apparently they couldn’t keep an eye on him there as good as they could at their own place. At least, they say that’s the reason, but Lucas is certain it’s only because he’s the DD tonight and they don’t want to waste money on a taxi for all of them. 

“We’ll let you join in on beer pong, how ‘bout that?” Alex tries to appease him, a playful hint to his tone as he sips his own beverage.  

Lucas levels him with a blank stare, pursing his lips. “That only gets  _ you  _ drunk, you know that,” because he kicks all of theirs asses in beer pong. 

Alex shakes his head, “Not if I’m on your team,” he laughs, “Plus we get the satisfaction of  _ winning.  _ Drunk on triumph, Lulu,” The younger boy rolls his eyes, lifting himself up from the couch they’re all occupying. 

“Let’s go,” he begrudgingly relents. Alex ruffles his hair, cheering as they make their ways outside to the table. It’s the latter and Lucas against Idriss and Sofiane. The good thing is that both of those boys are competitive enough to make it even just a little bit of a challenge for Lucas. It’s not all effortless. 

And it’s not as boring as Lucas was expecting, either. He had some laughs, got his fair share of teasing in, and it’s rather amusing to witness the disappointed sigh that escapes Idriss every time he misses and every time Lucas and Alex score. 

It’s the last round of the third game. Lucas has had 4, maybe 5 shots of beer all in all, but nowhere enough to equal a full, and he locks eyes with Sofiane, positioning his hand, ready to let go. He shoots, he wins. Again. Best 2 out of 3 ended up turning into 3 out of 3. 

Alex yells enthusiastically, picking Lucas up and spinning him around. It’s a favorite of theirs - the guys, because Lucas is the smallest out of all of them and he’s not hard to lift. They have their fun with it, especially when they’re overly excited about things. Like now. 

But Lucas can’t help but to laugh along, cheer with them. Triumph makes a nicer buzz than he had thought it would, and the events of the games were enough of a distraction to de-stress him from his long day. 

He’s put back on his feet, shaking his head and trying to hide his smile. Idriss demands a rematch, “It hit the rim,” he whines, desperate for any sort of disqualification. 

“That’s not a thing,” Alex points a smug finger at him as he throws an arm around Lucas’ shoulder and proudly pulls him into his side. “We won fair and square. 3 times in a row,” he smirks and Sofiane rounds the table to high five them. 

“Lucas Lallemant remains undefeated,” and the smaller boy shrugs sheepishly. 

“So can I get my beer now?” Alex had promised him one if he could win all 3 games, which he obviously had no problems doing. 

Sofiane volunteers to fetch it for him after Alex gives Lucas the okay. The 3 of them are left standing there, chit chatting with each other until Alex receives a text from his girlfriend and then, “Ana told me to keep an eye on you tonight to make sure you don’t start making out with any assholes again,” Lucas rolls his eyes fondly because somehow the couple had voluntarily filled the role of being Lucas’ 2nd parents, taken it upon themselves. 

“It happened once, okay,” he got super drunk, snuck out of their supervision and found some extremely hot guy to hook up with until they had found him, not so subtly expressed their distaste and disapproval for said guy, and claimed he was the  _ last  _ person Lucas needed to be throwing himself at. Now they won’t let him live it down. 

“Yeah, man, but with  _ Chase? _ That guy’s a joke,” Alex shakes his head, chuckling at the memory. It takes Idriss a few moments to catch on to what they’re talking about, recalling the memory for himself. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t realize how much of an ass he was until  _ after  _ your tongue went down his throat,” Idriss teases and Lucas shoves him to the side, knocking him off his feet a little. 

“Uh? You’ve seen him, right? I couldn’t have given two shits about what kind of personality he had,” 

“Horny fuck,” Alex cackles and Lucas fixes him with a glare. At about that time they see Sofiane making his way through the crowd, beer in hand and there’s someone trailing behind him, someone Lucas can’t quite make out but he knows for a fact he’s never seen before because from what he  _ can _ see of the guy, there’s no way Lucas could ever forget a fucking face like that. 

When they get closer Sofiane holds up the beverage and get’s the others attention by loudly exclaiming, “Look who I found!” and it's safe to say Lucas was less than prepared for the bursts of celebration that comes from his friends. “ELLIOT!” They yell at once and all jump forward, surrounding the newcomer with hugs and high fives. He almost gets swallowed in their excitement but luckily makes it out enough for Lucas to get a good look at his face and  _ fuck —  _ he’s beautiful. 

He’s all cheeky smiles and sea green eyes. His deep brown locks are askew, something that Lucas could only describe as “sex hair” because that’s exactly what it looks like - like someone’s just constantly ran their hands through it, gripping it tightly. He gets an ugly feeling inside of him at the thought of this guy already having someone to do that, but then he chastises himself because  _ get a grip, Lucas. You don’t even know him. _

“When’d you get back, bro?” Alex asks him, backing up some to give him a little space even though Idriss is still basically hanging off of him. 

“Earlier today, actually. I mean, I haven’t been back on campus long, only about an hour or so. I stopped by my parents’ as soon as I got in,” he nods along to his own words, his smile so fucking bright as he crosses gangly arms over his chest. His eyes roam over all of his friends, considering each of them before they land on Lucas, gazes matching. He cocks his head, “Hi,” 

Apparently that’s when everyone else remembers the younger boy as well, and Alex curses, “Fuck, sorry dude,” as he tosses a messy limb around the formers shoulders again, “This is Lulu,” 

Lulu, who if he had a bit more alcohol in him he wouldn't be thinking so much about how he’s just been introduced as  _ Lulu, fucking A,  _ and he’d rather be basking in the way this Elliot’s eyes rake up and down his body _.  _ But unfortunately he’s sober, no liquid confidence at all so he squirms, trying not to blush. He’s no fucking prude, not by a long shot, he just, he tends to be a bit more — open? Um, friendly? when he’s got some alcohol in him, or even weed, it doesn’t matter, just something to boost him a bit. Admittedly, sometimes it gets out of hand and he’s a bit  _ too  _ friendly which is why his friends insist on watching him so closely when he does drink. 

Right now he wishes he had more than a couple shots of beer in him. He wishes he could be friendly now,  _ so bad.  _

“I’m Elliot,” 

_ Elliot. _ Lucas knew this, as of 30 seconds ago but it's so much different to hear it come out of the guys’ mouth himself rather than Idriss and the others. 

He chokes out a quiet, “Lucas,” to clarify that he’s not some tiny little priss dog named  _ Lulu _ for fucksake. 

They kind of stare at each other, neither saying anything for a couple of moments as  _ Elliot _ just grins softly and Lucas’ mouth is tilted up shyly. 

But of course the moment is broken because his friends don't know how to fucking observe when shit’s happening. “So you’re back for good, yeah?” Idriss questions, knocking the boy out of his staring contest with Lucas. 

“Uh, yeah,” he clears his throat distractedly, “Yeah,” 

Alex speaks into Lucas’ ear, “Elliot took a semester off to travel,” Lucas hums, taking a sip of his beer. “I don't know if you've ever heard us talking about him or not,” no, he hasn't, “but he stays at the house with us,” 

“He’s one of your brothers?” A nod, and Lucas is quiet. They're having their own conversation as the rest of the guys chat, catching up, and then Sofiane asks if Elliot wants to join them in another game of beer pong, and he accepts.

“You can take my spot then,” Alex states as he waves his phone in his hand, “I’m calling my girlfriend,” there’s a chorus of groans and teases from the other side of the table accusing him of being whipped, which he responds by promptly flipping them off and walking away. 

Lucas isn't one to get nervous under pressure, he’s normally pretty good at shoving any of the nerves he might have away, tucking them away so he doesn't have to think about them anymore. Apparently it's not the case tonight, though, because as Elliot rounds the table to stand next to him, shooting him a kind smile as he begins rearranging the cups, Lucas can feel his pulse quickening. He contemplates backing out, making some excuse to leave so that he doesn't have to play right now, but for some unknown reason it seems he’s incapable of doing anything other than nodding when he’s asked by the older boy if he’s ready. 

“You guys are going down this time,” Idriss calls and Lucas rolls his eyes,

“Sure,” 

He didn't think it was quite possible for someone to  _ suck so bad  _ at aiming a fucking ball into a cup but Elliot does. Really, Lucas has no idea how they ended up winning but they do, and it's a damn miracle. He doesn't know what he would have done if he had to endure the slew of smugness that Idriss would have thrown at him during every conversation they had for God knows how long. 

Elliot's lucky he’s as attractive as he is because otherwise Lucas might have actually voiced his frustration at his inability to make a simple shot. 

It’s their second attempt and Elliot has somehow managed for his ball to end up in the bushes somewhere behind their opponents. Idriss takes off to look for it, coming back without and then recruiting Sofiane for help. While they’re gone the guy leans his hand on the table as he faces Lucas, “So,” 

“So,” 

The more Lucas stands here with the college boy, the more he notices that Elliot has absolutely no problem with how obvious his appreciation is for his beer pong partner. He’s very clearly studying Lucas, eyes lingering on every part of him as he bites his lip. There’s a look in his eyes that Lucas would really rather not dwell on the meaning of, only because he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself and start making shit up in his head. 

Elliot looks like he’s going to open his mouth and say something other then “so” but he’s cut off by the sound of Lucas’ phone going off. “Shit, sorry,” he digs into his pocket to see that it’s Yann and he doesn’t think twice about answering, “Hello?” He refrains from glancing over at his company and instead shifts away. 

_ “Emma dumped me,”  _ Yann doesn’t sound too terribly torn up; he and Emma have been on and off for the better part of a few months now. It’s not the first time she’s dumped him and it probably won’t be the last, and it most likely won’t end up being that huge of a deal in the next couple of days or hell, maybe even tomorrow morning, but it doesn’t stop Lucas from replying, 

“I’m on my way,” before hanging up. He turns back to Elliot, “Ah, sorry..” and is waved off by the other boy, an amused expression written all over his face. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” his words sound sure and his lips break into a toothy grin. Lucas only nods, asks if he can let the others know he had to take off and Elliot agrees. He cuts through the backyard door instead of trying to fight the crowd inside, and makes his way on down the street to the bus stop. After sending a text to Yann asking if he needs to stop by the store and bring anything, and then receiving a response that no, he doesn’t, he shoots one to Alex and says, 

_ Had to split, Yann’s got girl problems. Call if you need anything? _

**_seigneurdelano_ ** _ How am I supposed to get drunk now when I have no one to drive me home _

**_lucallemant_ ** _ I think you can deal without for a night _

**_seigneurdelano_ ** _ :’(  _

_ Let me know what happens with Yann _

Lucas smiles down at his phone. His two groups have met a couple of times, what with Yann and the boys visiting him at work pretty regularly, and sometimes they all go out together but Lucas kind of enjoys keeping them separate for the most part. It’s nice though that they can care about one another like this, ask about each other more often than not, see how they’re doing. 

The bus ride to Yann’s is quiet and slow. It’s late, so not a lot of people are out, and it’s nice to get some peace as he slouches in the very back with his head against the window and watches the city pass by. It’s a short walk between the stop and his friends flat, and when he gets there he creeks up the stairs without much sound, knowing how fucking difficult the neighbors are - the old couple on the floor below likes to make a huge deal about any sound in the hallways or on the staircase - and so he takes small, soft steps as to not raise their attention. He swears they sleep in their living room just so that they can be woken up at the slightest of noises and make some sort of complaint. 

He doesn’t have to knock on the door when he arrives, instead just sauntering in and slipping his shoes off in the foyer. He can hear Baz and Arthur here already, no doubt playing video games and arguing over who actually won and who cheated. When Lucas pads into the living room Yann’s lying down on the couch, silently observing the chaos happening in front of him and Lucas chuckles to himself - looks about right. 

“Hi,” he announces, walking in front of the screen and feeling a bit satisfied at the fuss he caused. “What?” he asks in mock confusion, lingering in their view and blocking everything as they scramble from side to side to see. “Did you say something? I couldn’t hear you,” 

“Get out of the fucking way, asshole,” Arthur’s real feisty when it comes to his video games, and Lucas can’t help the smirk that happens across his face when he’s pushed to the side. He peers at Yann, seeing a small smile that splits his lips and he makes his way over to him. The guy half sits up, lets Lucas sit down and then shoves a pillow into his lap so he can lay his head back down. Naturally, Lucas’ hand falls down to his shoulder when he gets situated. 

“Sup?” 

Yann stares up at him, nibbling on the inside of his lip. “Apparently I don’t pay her the attention she deserves,” 

Lucas wants to laugh. It’s the same argument everytime. It’s either this or Yann doesn’t take her serious enough. She’s much more high maintenance than one would expect her to be, and it oftentimes causes difficulties in their relationship because she’s the actual definition of insatiable. 

“I don’t know why you’re so broken up about it dude,” Arthur comments from his spot on the other couch, his mouth hanging open as he tries to concentrate on whatever they’re playing. “You know that as soon as you see each other monday she’ll fall all over you again and everything will be fine,” 

He’s not wrong, but Lucas throws a pillow at the back of his head anyway and uses the excuse that he was being insensitive. There are beer bottles scattered about on the coffee table, and when Yann shakes his head and starts speaking with the tiniest hint of slur in his voice, Lucas can smell the alcohol on his breath and wonders how much he’s had. “Not this time,” his friend protests. “I’m done this time, I don’t care what she says to me,” 

Basile cracks a laugh, “Sure, man,” and Luca rolls his eyes, reaching for an empty can to chuck at him too. “Ow, fuck,” 

“You guys think I’m joking but I’m not, okay? I’m actually done, I refuse to go back to her,” While the other two snicker at the exclamation that they’ve all heard too many times before, it’s Lucas’ job to make him feel better so he nods supportively, patting Yann’s shoulder and rubbing his thumb over the shirt fabric. 

“Of course,” he soothes, “We believe you,” 

A year ago the close proximity would have made him feel all sorts of different things on the inside but not anymore. He’s long since gotten over his foolish crush on his best friend, moved completely passed it without a single soul finding out and now the only one who can shame him in embarrassment remains to be himself. Biggest supporter, right?

“So how much have you had to drink tonight?” He inquires softly, looking down at the head in his lap. 

“Only a couple,”

“Six,” Baz and Arthur both say in unison and Yann furrows his eyebrows, affronted. 

“Fuck you guys,” he shifts a little, getting more comfortable on his back. “How was the party?” he asks Lucas. 

“It was alright, nothing too exciting,” 

The rest of night passes pretty quick. Though Lucas has the opportunity to get drunk like he’s been wishing to do the entire night, he doesn’t. He decides it isn’t worth it because he has to open tomorrow morning at the cafe and he’d rather not do it with a hangover. They all get Yann to bed after a couple of hours and he insists Lucas stay with him as the other two sleep in the guest bedroom. He falls asleep easily, having stayed in Yann’s bed almost as many times as he’s stayed in his own. 

His alarm goes off first thing in the morning, and he hurries to turn it off before it awakes the snoozing body next to him. He slides out from under the covers and shuffles over to the dresser. He has his own drawer here, just like Yann has his own at Lucas’, and he sifts through until he finds a clean pair over underwear before heading to the shower. He’s lucky that there isn’t really a uniform at the cafe, they’re generally free to wear what they want as long as they don’t look like a homeless person. 

It’s a routine when he’s sleeps at Yann’s. Wake up, shower, make the coffee for him, leave. And there’s nothing about this morning that’s any different than the other times, though when he finally makes his exit and slips out the front door, he nearly cringes as he runs into the neighbors downstairs. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Andry, how are you?” he greets kindly and isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get much of a response. He nods awkwardly, walking past them for the next case of stairs, “Well have a nice day,” They’re not very pleasant people.    
  
  


The customers start filing in around 10h. Saturday mornings are his favorites because there’s usually the same people here every weekend. He has regulars who he knows by their names, and they know by his. One of his favorites is this adorable old man, Mr. Claude, who comes in every single day at the same exact time, gets the same exact order and sits in the same exact spot. His wife died a year ago and apparently he’s been coming here ever since. Lucas has only worked here a couple of months, and he hates that he only gets 2 days a week to see the old man, but he tries to chat with him as much as he can. 

Lucas switches off with one of his coworkers and allows them to run the register as he makes the drinks. There’s a slight dip in business around 11h and when he sees there’s no one in line, he grabs the carafe and ambles over to the corner by the windows. “Can I get you a refill, Mr. Claude?” They’re really not supposed to do this - if people want refills then they can come up to the counter to ask, but Lucas makes an exception for his favorite customer. 

“Oh, no thank you, son. I think I’m alright for now,” Mr. Claude sits quietly in his space, minding his own business and just taking in his surroundings. He watches those who come in, studying them from afar. He’s kind to everyone, sometimes he greets people and talks to them for a bit, but mostly he keeps to himself. He’s got one of those bubbling personalities that draws everyone in, makes you happy when you’re around them. He’s a very genuine guy and Lucas thinks it’s his favorite part about working here - getting to meet Mr. Claude. 

“Okay, you let me know if you need anything else, okay?” He smiles brightly and moves to walk away when he hears, 

“Oh, Lucas, how’s that pup of yours?” 

He isn’t sure how it got brought up but one day he had mentioned that he and his mother had just got a new dog, a puppy, and the man asks about it every single time they see each other. It never fails. 

Lucas’ heart warms greatly and he answers, “She’s doing really good, very energetic,” 

“I’m glad to hear,” 

The bell over the door dings, signaling new customers and Lucas reluctantly moves back behind the counter. Sarah calls for an iced coffee with cream and sugar and a swirl of caramel, togo. He goes about making it, humming quietly to himself, snapping the lid on when he’s done and swiveling around to hand it off. It’s a wonder how the drink didn’t slip through his fingers and splatter all over the floor.

Elliot stands there patiently, fingers drumming on the counter as he grins at Lucas expectantly. He raises both of his eyebrows once, a little dance when he sees Lucas’ surprised face and lack of words. The younger boy is taken off guard, obviously. Like, completely fucking knocked off of his damn stand. 

“Hi,” Elliot draws, completely normal like he’s just meeting a regular ole friend. But Lucas isn’t an old friend. He isn’t a friend at all, they only just met each other last night and he’s said like 3 words to the guy. 

His brain short circuits and the first thing that he blurts out is, “Alex isn’t working today,” and then immediately closes his eyes in a soft exhale because  _ rude.  _

Fortunately Elliot only breathes a laugh and says, “I know that,” pause, “I came here to see you,”

“I-- what?” Lucas gains enough sense to step to the side out of the way and Elliot follows. 

“Well I mean, I wanted a coffee and I thought, who better to do it than the cute barista from the party last night,” as if his words weren’t enough of a murder weapon in themselves, he felt the need to add a wink with them and Lucas thought for sure he was going to drop dead right there. He feels himself blush involuntarily and he looks away, licking his lips.  

“Umm..” he mutters because he’s genuinely found himself at a loss for word

“Anyways,” Elliot continues happily, like nothing happened, and Lucas’ eyes snap back over to him, “I should get going, I’ve got things to do today. See you,” his teeth actually sparkle white when he smiles, he drops his gaze down the other boys’ body once before winking a fucking gain and tacking on an extra, “Lulu,” to the end of his sentence and then he’s gone just as quick as he arrived.

Lucas stands frozen in his spot, unable to move. He hears Sarah come up behind him and ask, “Who’s that?” and the interest and curiosity in her voice is more evident than Lucas would like to hear. He rolls his eyes, walking away. 

“No one,”

and boy is that the biggest fucking lie he’s ever told. 


	2. I Saw Him for the First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw her for the first time - dr. dog
> 
>  
> 
> she is up 👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼

Eliott had a nice time touring Europe. All the people he met, the food he tried, the amazing views he saw. It was a surreal experience that he’ll forever hold inside his head and his heart, but he’ll admit that it does feel amazing to be back home. He was nervous about it, he didn’t know what it would be like to see his friends again after the shit that had happened before he left, but everything seemed to be fairly normal. There was no awkwardness or hesitance, it wasn’t like they were all talking around the things that they wanted to say to him. For the most part it was like nothing happened, and Eliott’s thankful for that. 

He had stepped into the party on unsure feet, browsing around when he ran into Sofiane and then he felt like he could maybe shed a couple of tears at just seeing his friends’ kind face. From there he was lead to the rest of the clan, feeling like he could actually breathe again when he saw them, spoke to them, hugged them. It didn’t click that he was actually home again until he saw them, then he realized, yeah, this was where he needed to be. Not out running away from his issues and ditching because things got too hard for him. 

And then he saw Lucas. Or,  _ Lulu,  _ he should say, because he has yet to hear his friends call the boy anything other than that even though it was clearly stated by the boy himself that it was a mere nickname. 

Lucas was...unlike anything he’s ever seen before. And he got the chance to see plenty of beautiful people,  _ be  _ with plenty of beautiful people when he was away, but none of them quite made the impression on him that this Lucas did. Eliott’s a stickler for blue eyes. Especially big, round, innocent blue eyes that could easily challenge a puppy dog’s. 

But there were also the cheek bones, and the pink plush lips, and the poofy hair that sticks in all directions but in a different way than Eliott’s own. 

And then he  _ spoke  _ and it was so quiet, so shy and pure, and-- he pulled Eliott in without even trying. They were having a nice time together, Eliott thought, playing beer pong with the others. He was purposely throwing his ball way out of bounds just so that Idriss and Sofiane would have to look for it and he could get some time with just the two of them, Lucas and him. But then the boys’ phone rang and before Eliott knew what was happening, he was gone. 

Eliott had thought about it a lot, not ashamed to say that it took up the majority of his mind and thoughts from the moment he left. Who called? Was everything okay? Was it a girlfriend? A possible boyfriend? 

On tuesday in between classes, he decides to inquire Alex about it. As subtle as he can. 

They’re sitting on the couch in the living room of the frat house. There are other guys scattered about but none of them are paying much attention to anything, and so Eliott figures this is as best a time as any, as Alex is sprawled out with his leg hanging off the arm of the sofa and he plays on his phone. 

“Hey, uh,” Eliott starts and clears his throat. “So, what’s the deal with that kid the other night?”

“Who, Lucas?” Alex raises an eyebrow and the other guy nods in response. “He’s cool,” Eliott hums, wishing that there would be some sort of elaboration on that but he doesn’t want to make anything too obvious. After a few moments of pause, Alex asks, “Why?” 

And Eliott shrugs nonchalantly, “Just wondering,” 

“Come on, dude. I know you better than that. Usually if you ask about someone then it’s because you’re interested in them,” 

“And if I was?” 

Alex furrows his eyebrows, not answering his friends question and instead going with, “How’s Lucille?” There’s something in his tone, something defensive. It makes Eliott all the more curious. 

He rolls his eyes, sighing as he really doesn’t want to have this conversation and he should have known better. “Alright, I guess,” 

“Well she picked you up from the airport, right?” 

“Right,” 

“And she hasn’t been around at all since then…” 

It’s Eliott’s turn to furrow his brows, “We’re taking a break,” he states firmly, wondering why it’s so important to the other guy. 

Out of all of them, it’s Eliott and Alex who butt heads the most. They’re more similar to each other than they are with Idriss and Sofiane and a lot of times it causes them to clash. Alex has always been seemingly able to read Eliott’s mind, and more than the others can even though they all know each other like the backs of their hands. It tends to get under Eliott’s skin because Alex always knows exactly what to say to piss him off, knows exactly how to effect him. It’s not like he does it with the intent to hurt Eliott, but it’s more like when Eliott gets out of line, because he has a habit of doing so often, it’s to just put him back in his place. 

He knows how Eliott thinks. He knows what goes on inside his head. That, mixed with the protective vibe he’s giving off at the mention of Lucas’ name, it should tell Eliott something. It should hint that this is not what he wants to do, he should leave it alone. 

Instead, “So, Lucas?”

And he isn’t surprised when Alex scoffs, standing up, “Off limits,” and walks off. 

It only makes him want the boy more.

\--

\--

Eliott’s second approach is to ask Sofiane and see how much he knows of Lucas. He’d rather not ask Idriss, what with their …..  _ questionable  _ past that he isn’t too keen on getting into right now. 

They’re walking into class on Wednesday, heading to their seats and it just so happens that Eliott is presented with the perfect opportunity to slide into it when Sofiane is already talking about the younger boy himself. 

“So that's where Lucas comes in, drenched in water with this scowl on his face and he’s  _ so upset  _ I thought he was just going to tell all of us to piss off right then, but instead he walks over to Idriss, hands him the key and says, ‘you’re welcome,’ before plopping down on the bench and soaking everyone next to him,” he’s recalling some story that Eliott was only half listening to until he heard Lucas’ name and his ears actually shot up at the mention, just as a dogs would at the sound of a food wrapper. 

“So, he was the one who jumped in after it?” 

Sofiane nods, his eyes shining with mirth as he thinks of the memory, “Only because I guess he got sick of everyone bitching about it but no one actually bothering to do it themselves,” 

As they're pulling out their notebooks and pens, Eliott chews on his lip in contemplation, wondering how he should pursue. Alex quickly caught on to what he was doing before he really even asked anything, Eliott wonders if Sofiane will be the same. Maybe he’ll be cooler about it than Alex was. “So he hangs out with you guys a lot, then?” 

“He’s pretty dope for a high schooler,” he winks. 

“High schooler?” 

“Yeah, he’s in his last year,” 

Eliotts not sure how he let that fact escape him, but he did. “So he’s..” 

“18,” Sofiane inclines his head suspiciously, “Look, he’s younger than the rest of us, yeah, but it’s not really an issue...unless you have a problem with it?” 

The other boy reels back, “What? No, of course not,” 

“Okay well you’re just acting a little weird,” 

At this time the professor walks in, clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and Eliott struggles to get his point across that he has no qualms with the kid hanging out with them, it’s quite the opposite, really. He doesn’t share that last part, no way, but he tries to make the first part clear without signaling anything more unusual.

“I’m just trying to get to know the kid better. Is there something wrong with that?” Sofiane gives him a knowing look, one that says he isn’t buying into the bullshit. 

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it. But I know how you are, Eli. It’s not a good idea,” 

Eliott squints his eyes, wondering what the hell that’s supposed to mean and why everyone is so fucking against it. “For him or for me?” 

“For either of you,” 

This is the second person who has told him that pursuing any sort of relationship with Lucas that isn’t purely platonic is a bad idea. Eliott can’t figure out if it’s got something to do with himself, with his own personal issues and possibly the shit that went down a few months ago, or if it’s more to do with Lucas’ backstory, whatever it may be. All he knows is that there’s this itch that he’s had ever since he met the younger boy and he’s got this nagging feeling that isn’t going away until said younger boy scratches it himself. 

\--

\--

After a few days of consideration, Eliott decides that maybe his friends are right. Maybe he just needs to leave Lucas be and not have a second thought about how fucking beautiful he is, or how his lips might feel against Eliott’s own, or what it would be like to be pressed up against him. He doesn’t think about it. Not once. 

As much as he hates to admit it, and he only does so rarely, even if only to himself and never out loud and especially not to them, his friends know him best. Some might argue that they know him better than he knows himself. And no matter how bad Eliott wants to go against their advice, just out of spite and to prove to them that he can do whatever the hell he wants, there’s just something pulling him back. It’s a vague feeling, he’s not totally aware of how to describe it. All he knows is that he came to an agreement with himself that he’ll refrain from continuing to flirt with Lucas and blatantly check him out and call him the cute barista again. 

Perhaps he should text Lucille, see what she’s up to. Trying to work things out between the two of them is the absolute last thing that he wants to do, but he can use her as a distraction, if anything. As douchey as it sounds. 

He won’t think about Lucas anymore. It’s probably better that Lucas doesn’t get mixed up in the drama that is Eliott’s entire life anyways. He’ll just-- he’ll get to know the boy on a friendly level and nothing past that. Just mates. 

\--

\--

The mates thing goes flying out of the window the minute he next sees Lucas again. It’s completely unexpected, not planned for at all but it happens. 

He’s at Idriss’ and they’re playing video games in his room. Eliott was a bit apprehensive about spending one on one time with his friend for the first time in months, but it’s a lot better than he anticipated. It seems Idriss is more into acting like nothing happened instead of actually addressing the incident (something that has yet to happen) which Eliott would normally be fine with because avoiding things is a second nature to him, but he can’t help to feel like they should talk about it. He wants to know if Idriss told the others what happened. He wants to know if Idriss blames anything on Eliott. He wants to know if Idriss resents him for it. There’s a lot that he can’t stop thinking about and hasn’t been able to get out of his head. He’s dying for answers here. 

During a particularly uneventful game they’re in the middle of planning, Eliott thinks it’s time for him to say something about it. He side eye’s his friend, wrestling with the idea in his head that everything is seemingly fine right now, don’t ruin it with his dumb questions and curiosity and insecurities. 

In the end, the part of them that’s undetermined whether or not it’s good or bad wins. “Can I ask you something?” 

It’s like Idriss has been expecting it. Like he knew it was only a matter of time before it was brought up, because he folds his lips together and even though Eliott can only see the side of his face, he knows there’s a serious expression written all over it, no longer worried about what’s happening on the screen right now. “What’s up?” He doesn’t pause the game, though, doesn’t even glance at Eliott. He doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s obvious. 

“Did you tell Alex and Sofiane?” 

Without missing a beat, “Tell them what?” 

Eliott knows that it isn’t an actual question, just something to avoid talking about the situation for a little longer, or maybe it’s some sort of deflection, he isn’t sure. But it hurts to hear it. It shouldn’t, he’s aware of this because it was embarrassing for him, he regrets every single thing about it and on any other day he would be praying that it be forgotten in both of their minds, except today, he’s not. Today there’s a stab to his chest at the insinuation that Idriss is unclear as to what Eliott is referring.  

He pauses the game himself, thinking that maybe he deserves a little more than a conversation where they’re not even making eye contact and his friend is playing dumb. So he hits the button on the controller, ignores the protests coming from the person beside him, and turns his body to face him. “About what happened before I left.” 

Idriss looks down, still avoiding direct eye contact but at least Eliott knows he’s got his attention. “No,” he murmurs quietly, “I didn’t,” 

He feels relief, sort of, but he can’t bring himself to enjoy it because he’s so focused on the reasoning behind it. “Why not?” 

The other guy shrugs, licks his lips and Eliott feels the tiniest bit of pride for himself that he didn’t glance down to trace the movement. “I don’t know,” Idriss confesses and he sounds distraught. “Because it’s not really their business, and I figured you probably wouldn’t want me to anyways,” he finally looks over to Eliott, connecting their gazes for the first time. He’s searching for something in Eliott’s eyes, Eliott can’t say what, but he nods. 

“Thank you,” he gulps, and there’s the relief again. Idriss doesn’t respond verbally, but his lips split into a small grin and he puts a hand on Eliott’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go get something to drink,” 

They stand up, stretching out their limbs from being cooped up on the bed criss cross applesauce for the past hour and a half, and then they make their ways into the rest of the house. Eliott can hear chatting in the dining room, and when they step past the barrier, the chaotic, brown mess of hair sitting at the table with Imane is unmistakable. They appear to be studying, Imane going on and on, trying to explain something to the boy that he clearly isn’t understanding if the impatience in the girls’ voice is anything to go by. 

Neither of them notice the two older guys until Idriss loudly exclaims, “What’s up, losers,” and all but tackles Lucas from behind while he still sits in the  chair. Imane looks up at the commotion, her eyes hard with annoyance until she looks past her brother to Eliott, and the annoyance turns into joy, though she catches it before it spreads across the rest of her features. 

Eliott, on the other hand, fails to hide the excitement he feels at seeing the girl, and he walks over to her with his arms stretched out as she stands up from her seat. He isn’t ashamed to admit how much he had missed her, or how natural it feels to wrap his arms around her back and pull her into his chest. Imane is just as much of a little sister to him as Idriss is a brother. 

“How are you?” He asks her as they pull apart, but he keeps a hand on her shoulder. 

“Good,” she a hint of a smile gracing her lips, “And you?” 

“Really great,” 

“Yo,” he hears Idriss say, and both he and Imane turn their attention. “You remember Lucas right?” 

And that’s when Eliott is reminded that yes, the kid that’s been invading his entire head for the past week is sitting here, wide blue eyes on him, staring up at him oh so innocently. “Of course, hi,” Eliott greets him, and manages to rein in the overwhelming attraction he feels and mask it into politeness. 

“Hi,” 

Eliott can only grin, unable to do much other than just appreciate what's in front of him. Lucas looks around awkwardly, uncomfortable being eyed so closely. “So you’re studying, then?” Eliott shifts back to Imane, giving the kid a break. 

She inclines her head, sitting back down. “Science, yeah, I’m trying to help him understand it better. We have a test coming up,” 

Lucas seems upset by her words, he cuts his eyes at her, “We’re doing it  _ together  _ because we both need it,” he argues stubbornly and Imane snorts. 

“Okay,” 

Eliott flits his eyebrows, fixing his gaze back to the boy by the table, his adorable face set into a pout. “I’m pretty good with science,” he offers with a smirk and revels in the way Lucas’ eyes snap to him, wide with shock. 

“Th-that’s okay, I think I'm getting it,” and Eliott shrugs. He hears Idriss huff a bored breath and say, 

“We’ll just leave you two to this then, Lulu call when you get too fed up with my sister’s attitude,” he sniggers as he walks by her and  _ almost  _ avoids the foot she sticks out to trip him but not quite. Eliott sends a reluctant nod to them both in departure as he continues his tread to the kitchen. 

It was already difficult for him to focus on much with the kid lingering in the back of his mind, always just  _ there _ , but now that Eliott knows that they're in the same building, the same  _ house  _ and only a mere few feet and a wall away, it’s nearly fucking impossible for him to process anything other than  _ Lucas Lucas Lucas _ , especially when Idriss begins to go off about some story that has absolutely nothing to do with said distraction. 

And when Eliott intentionally leans against the counter right in front of the doorway, a straight line of site into the dining room and the boys' chair and then Lucas bashfully glances up at him from where he’s writing notes, his lips slightly parted and the light hitting the blue of his irises just right, Eliott is done for. 

So fucking done for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @spn-skam :)


	3. Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder - Lauren Aquilina (shoutout to my girl E for the song rec)
> 
>  
> 
> we love to bowl!!
> 
> also warnings for mention of drug addiction and the effects it has on those around it???

When Lucas first started working at the coffee shop and met Alex, he had just gotten out of a relationship that had ended rather poorly. He was in love and heartbroken, angry at himself and his ex. But he was scared, mostly. Because the guy would come into the cafe, beg Lucas to just  _ give him one more chance, he’s sorry,  _ and every day Lucas would tell him no, it’s not going to happen. He was persistent, bordering on creepy about it and the more it happened, the scarier he got. 

His ex had issues with drugs, which Lucas in no way blamed him for but after a while he finally realized how toxic the relationship was. He was back in forth inside his own head,  _ should I leave him? Give up on him like everyone else in his life? Or should I stay with him, continue to try and help and be here with him, help him get through it because eventually there’ll be a sunny side.  _ They had a lot of problems, the two, and Lucas dealt with it for as much as he could. And everytime he said he couldn’t handle anymore, every time he said he just couldn’t take it, there he was - handling more and taking it. Lucas didn’t want to leave him, not because of that. He loved him and he did want to help but it was taking over his own life. It was putting him in situations that he didn’t want to be in. A few times it turned violent, a few times he found himself in questionable and frankly sketchy positions. 

And he didn’t want to do it anymore. He woke up and decided it was time to start taking care of himself. He didn’t want to feel like he was babysitting his boyfriend anymore, he didn’t want to have to worry about if every time they met, it was a good day or a bad day for the guy. He didn’t want to get into arguments and fear for himself because his partner was never in his right mind. He decided that the longer he stuck around, babying him and letting him get away with the shit he was doing, it wasn’t doing any good for either of them. 

It wasn’t an easy decision coming to this point. He thought long and hard about it, fought with himself and blamed himself. He spent many sleepless nights lying awake and staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he was doing the right thing or not. Would it help or would it make things worse? He knew his ex would be angry about it, he knew that he’d have to do it quick and make sure he had a solid escape route. 

And it  _ did  _ turn violent. And it  _ was  _ scary. And he  _ did  _ get hurt. But he was okay in the end, he made it out. 

But then the guy started coming to the cafe, causing trouble, making scenes. Almost got Lucas fired a couple of times because it was bad for the business, but Alex was there. And Alex went to bat for him with the manager, Alex made sure that Lucas was safe in the shop at all times. Alex was there. That’s how they became so close, that’s how Lucas became so close with Idriss and Sofiane too. They all knew about it, and a couple of times they had been there to see it, stepped in when they felt they needed to. It’s why they’re all so overprotective of him. It’s why they’re all so picky and judgemental and opinionated when Lucas mentions literally any guy at all that he finds himself attracted to. 

It’s been over four months since and Lucas has refused to date anyone else, not having the energy to deal with relationships. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been with guys. Because he has. Plenty of them and whoever he wants. And sometimes he might find them while he’s out with his friends, sometimes he might run into them while they’re all together. There’s few guys that his mates have approved of. Very few. And not just Alex and them, but Yann and that group as well (even though those guys aren’t caught up on the full backstory with his ex, he never wanted to tell them about the behind the scenes of it all, but they’re aware it wasn’t a pleasant departure.)

“We just want the best for our Lulu,” they all tell him. “We won’t have another James situation on our hands,” and as much as Lucas gripes and moans about it, rolls his eyes in annoyance and huffs his breath it complaint, he’s thankful for them. 

\--

\--

It was a wednesday and he and Alex both had about 30 minutes left on their shifts. Lucas was leaned against the wall resting his head with his eyes closed because it was a slow day and there weren’t any customers in. Alex was wiping down the counters. “Are you busy this weekend?” he asked, and Lucas looked up at the sound of his voice,  

“I don’t think so, why?” 

He shrugs, “We were thinking about bowling,” Lucas cocks his eyebrow in amusement. 

“Bowling?” 

“Yes, bowling, asshole. There’s nothing wrong with it,” 

The younger boy hides his smile, sticking his arms out in defense. “Okay,” he agrees, “And who’s we?” 

Alex narrows his eyes from where he’s rinsing out the cloth, “The guys?” And Lucas figured that much, he was just-- he didn’t actually know what he was doing. 

“Like..all of you?” Alex nods. “Like, you and Idriss, Sofiane and...Eliott?” 

“Those would be the guys, yes,” 

Lucas bites his lip, inclining his head. “Can I bring Yann?” Because if Eliott is there then Lucas is definitely going to need the backup. 

“Yeah, dude, of course. Bring whoever you want,” 

Yann will just be enough. Lucas doesn’t need Basile and Arthur embarrassing him or themselves around the older guy. No way. 

They have a couple of customers come in before they finish, and Alex charmingly convinces them to buy a few treats as well. Lucas watches in a mix of amusement and astonishment because he’ll never understand. “How do you do that?” he questions as they take off their aprons and pack up their things. They walk out together, saluting to the rest of the employees and make their ways to Alex’s car. 

“Do what?” 

“Old people. They fucking love you,” 

Alex grins proudly, pointing to himself, “Could you say no to this face?” Lucas laughs and nudges his shoulder playfully. He supposes he's right.

\--

\--

“Remind me again why you’re trying to avoid this dude?” They’re on their way to the bowling alley, Yann and Lucas. It’s only a few blocks from the formers apartment so they decided to enjoy the sharp chillness of a January night, scarves wrapped around their necks and hands dug into their pockets for warmth. When Yann speaks Lucas watches the breath cloud in front of his mouth before disappearing into the rest of the air.

He gives his friend a pointed look, exasperating, “Once you see him you’ll know,” 

“And who is he again?” 

They’ve had this conversation at least 2 times already between thursday morning when Lucas first asked Yann to come with him, and now, saturday night. Lucas knows he’s explained this multiple times, giving his friend the every little detail version because as much as he hates gushing about - God help him - his  _ crushes,  _ he just can’t help but to spill and share each interaction he’s had with Eliott to his friend; “ _ he’s really bad at beer pong but so fucking cute”, “he drinks iced coffee. I love iced coffee.” , “And he was there - at Imanes, I had no idea but all of a sudden there he is.”  _

And it’s not like he can talk about the older guy to Alex and everyone because that would be  _ weird  _ and they’d probably not love it and also Lucas doesn’t want to chance it getting back to him. Even though he’s fairly certain that Eliott is into him, judging by the way his eyes seem to never be able to leave Lucas every time they’re in the same room, but Lucas doesn’t want to get his hopes up and just be making shit up in his head and imagining it all. And fuck, then he has to remind himself that it’s not a good idea to get mixed up with Eliott, not a good idea for either of them. Lucas doesn’t know him very well, or at all, really, but he knows guys _like_ Eliott and he knows that they’re not relationship material - knows that they’re more into playing with your feelings than anything else. 

Huh, maybe it’s not so horrible of an idea after all. Lucas doesn’t want a relationship, and it’s more than plausible that Eliott won’t want one either (if Lucas knows anything about guys, which he does) so there’s no way to fuck it up, right? 

Wrong. That’s what scares Lucas about Eliott in the first place - Lucas doesn’t look at him and only want to jump his bones. He wants to do other things with him, like  _ know  _ him and spend time with him and have more of a relationship between them than just purely sex. And he knows that if he ever allowed himself to do anything of the sort with the older guy, he would 100% not make it out of this unscathed. He can very vividly and without a doubt see himself falling in love and then getting his heart snatched right out of his chest and torn to pieces. 

Which brings him back to why Yann’s here in the first place. 

“He’s their frat brother, apparently they’ve all been friends since like middle school or something, I don’t know,” 

“So where’s he been this entire time you’ve known them?” 

“Out of town,” Lucas comments distractedly as they cross the parking lot to the building. He sees their reflections in the mirror as they approach the glass doors, and he tugs on his sleeve nervously. When they step inside it doesn’t take long for Lucas to spot the rest, and he turns to Yann, “He’s not here yet,” as they near the counter. 

It’s a young guy working, probably about Alex’s age, if not somewhere between he and Lucas.

When the guy asks what size shoes they need, Lucas mumbles a half hearted reply and then fixes a glare on Yann when he elbows him in the side for being rude. “Sorry,” Lucas apologizes, “10 ½,” He waits for the shoes, only half acknowledging the wink the worker sends his way when he hands them over, and he offers a quiet, “Thank you,” before turning around and heading towards his friends. 

“Dude’s into you,” Yann says, voice laced with mirth, and Lucas hums in question. “The guy at the counter? He was basically stripping you with his eyes. He’s pretty cute too,” 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he was too busy willing his heart rate down and the butterflies in his stomach to go back to fucking sleep.

“Lulu!!” The boys all exclaim excitedly as soon as they see him. Ana, Alex’s girlfriends beams brightly and hops up from her spot on the bench, meeting them in the middle and in a very serious and monotone voice she says, “Luke.” because she knows  _ exactly  _ how much he hates it.

Lucas hears a muttered, “Dang it, Ana,” from Idriss in the back, but he himself points a stern finger at the girl standing in front of him and just as seriously replies, “No.” They both break into laughter, Ana wraps her arms around him before addressing Yann and doing the same. “It’s nice to see you again,” They’ve met a couple of times before - it’s hard not to because she’s with the gang more often than not. 

It’s easy for them all to fall into harmless and friendly banter, teasing each other and ganging up on Lucas, save for Ana because she babies him more than anything and all but wraps a protective arm around him to hiss away any of the insults he might receive. It didn’t take long after they had first met for Lucas to figure out that mother-henning with Ana’s favorite, and since he was the youngest, smallest, and newest addition to the group it had to be him. 

Lucas just thinks it’s because he’s her favorite and she loves him most out of all of them. Really, how could she not? He was a fucking peach. 

It was a unanimous decision to wait for Eliott to arrive before they started any games, and they more just hung out at the concessions until the boy strutted through the door, happy smile on his face. “Fuck, okay, he’s here,” Lucas whispers harshly to Yann, turning his back to the entrance and making sure that the rest of them can’t hear. “Look, just be the buffer, okay? Don’t leave me alone with him, don’t let me talk to him for too long, and if you see me staring at him then distract me, okay?” 

“Lu, uh-- I don’t think it’s going to be much of a problem,” Yann expresses, the sound of uncertainty polluting his words as he pats his friend on the shoulder to get his attention. Lucas furrows his eyebrows, 

“What do you--” and he stops mid sentence as he faces back, taking in the sight of Eliott and-- some fucking girl that Lucas had no idea who she was but the guys’ arm was thrown over her shoulder and she fit into his side rather well - more so than Lucas cared to admit. 

She was beautiful, no doubt. With short hair curled to sit atop of her shoulders, a long jacket swaying behind her. If Lucas wasn’t so confused and so bitter about her presence (or maybe even mere existence, he doesn’t know, he’ll have to inspect more) then he might just be able to concede that they make a  _ relatively  _ nice couple. 

But he already hates her, so there will be no agreeing to that. 

He’s faintly aware of Sofiane asking no one in particular if they knew that  _ Lucille  _ was coming, because apparently that’s her name, and it only serves the negative feelings towards her inside of him to grow because that means that  _ they already know her.  _

Yann bumps his side, whispering something into is ear about, “You’re glaring fucking daggers into her, dude. Chill,” and it snaps Lucas out of it, but only for him to shift his gaze to Eliott, who is coincidentally staring right back at him. It’s-- challenging? Daring? Like he’s trying to get a reaction, just waiting for Lucas to do something. 

But he doesn’t. He won’t give the satisfaction. He quickly recomposes himself, sitting up straight and sending a charming, kind smile over to the couple before looking away. 

“Hi,” the two greet as they reach the table. 

Alex is the first to say anything, and he stands up to give her this weird, awkward hug. “Lucille, good to see you,” 

“Yeah, you too! Long time,” her voice is like sunshine, and her smile mirrors it just as well. Her eyes crinkle by the sides, much like Eliott‘s do, and she sounds pretty genuine so far, making it harder for Lucas to actually hate her. 

Sofiane gives her a polite fist bump, emitting, “What’s up, Lucille, Eliott didn’t mention you were coming,” and he says it kindly, not like he was accusing them or like he had a problem with it, but there was still a hint to it. Something lingering in the back that gave Lucas the impression that there might be a bit of tension. And at first he thinks he’s probably just crazy, overthinking it because it’s what he wants to hear, but then he glances over at Idriss, who had this guarded expression on his face and he’s looking just as awkward as Lucas feels, but possibly for different reasons. He doesn’t say anything to her, which Lucas finds odd, he just nods his head at her with a plastered on grin. 

“It was a last minute decision, I think,” she replies in a way as if they should all understand what that means. And maybe they all do, maybe Lucas is just left in the dark about the history that lies between the group, Eliott, and this  _ Lucille.  _ “You know how he is,” and when she puts her hand on his chest and peers lovingly up at him, Lucas has to look away again. 

Alex clears his throat, “Uh, this is Lucas and Yann, friends of ours,” 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” she says to both of them, shaking their hands and Lucas can’t help but to feel Eliott‘s eyes boring into him the entire time. He promptly ignores eye contact.   
  
  


They split into two teams. Sofiane and Ana with Lucas and Yann, versus the other four because Ana insisted she was going to beat her boyfriends ass and couldn’t do it if they were on the same side. Lucas doesn’t really care as long as he’s not on Eliott’s team with  _ Lucille.  _ Fuck, he can’t even think her name without inwardly cringing and then immediately feeling bad about it because she really seems like a nice girl and has in no way asked for the heat of Lucas’ glare. 

He sits back and watches as Ana strides to the line with the ball in her hand, waves of confidence just wafting off of her. She rolls it and ends up striking out, walking away with a defiant raise of her eyebrow. Plopping down to Lucas, she sighs. “It’s hard to lose when you’re this good,” Lucas snorts but doesn’t say anything, instead staring down at his hands fiddling in his lap. 

“So uh, what’s Lucille’s deal?” 

“What do you mean?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t know, what’s her story?” 

Ana takes a breath, considering her answer. “I don’t really know her that well. I mean, her and Eliott have been on and off for a few years now but the two of us have just never really clicked, you know? She’s nice, I guess. I kinda thought they were done, though. To be honest I’m surprised she’s here,” she adds the last two parts more of an afterthought to herself, not much addressed to Lucas. 

“Surprised?” 

“Well they had ended things before he left, and I just kind of assumed that with how poorly it was before, and 6 months apart, they’d grow out of each other. Guess not,” 

Lucas wants to press for more, wants all of the details he can get but Yann’s calling his name, saying it’s back to his turn. He stands, stretching out his arms before grabbing his own ball and stepping onto the floor. He isn’t really sure what prompts him to look to his side, but when he does he sees Eliott standing in front of the lane next to his, a smirk on his face as he eyes Lucas. 

“Sorry, you can go,” Lucas offers, taking a step back but Eliott says, 

“That’s okay, I prefer to watch before finishing,” with a wink, and Lucas is sure that his heart stops beating in that exact moment. Every ounce of blood in his body rushes directly to his head and he can practically feel his face pulsing with how red it is. He gulps, eyes wide and he’s absolutely fucking speechless. He turns back to his lane, fumbling for his balance and it truly is a wonder how he didn’t shoot a gutter ball.   
  
  


About an hour later he’s back in his seat, his head resting on Yann’s shoulder and the formers hand playing with tufts of hair on the nape of his neck. Lucas yawns, exhausted. So far his night has been filled with some  _ very  _ intense eye contact between him and Eliott, some awkward interactions between him and Lucille, and just the regular ole teasing from his two friends on the other team. 

Yann’s been pretty good with keeping him away from Eliott, and vice versa. Anytime the older boy has approached, making his best attempts at starting a conversation, Yann is right there, pulling Lucas away or reminding him it’s his turn or having some “very urgent” question that he needs an answer to. 

They’re on the last round of what is hopefully their last game, and Lucas is beat. And thirsty. He sits up, yawning. “I’m gonna get something to drink, do you want anything?” 

“Nah,” Yann shakes his head, “I’ll just drink yours,” 

Lucas breathes a laugh, “Of course you will,”

The guy at the concessions is the same one from the counter earlier, and Lucas wonders when he had moved. “What can I get for you?” he asks nicely, and at first Lucas is silent, roaming his own irises over the guys face. Yann was right, he’s not too terribly looking - green eyes and blonde curly hair. 

“Uh, just a coke,” and he earns a flirty smile in response. It doesn’t take long, but Lucas takes the time to observe him as he makes the drink, watches his veiny hands move around, his fingers grip the handle to shovel ice and then wrap around the cup. 

“Anything else?” He doesn’t hide his suggestive tone, and Lucas glances down at his name tag.  _ Paul.  _ He bites his lip, shaking his head and Paul leans forward tracking the movement before lowering his voice, “You know, I get off in an hour if you wanna do something,” 

Even this is exhausting. He doesn’t have the energy for it tonight but he needs some sort of fucking distraction and the opportunity presented itself, so who is Lucas to deny it? 

However, just as he’s about to accept the offer, someone’s already behind him, slinging an arm over his shoulders with a little more force than necessary and answering for him, “That’s awfully kind of you,  _ Paul,  _ but uh-- I think we’ll pass.” Lucas swings his head to the side, narrowing his eyes harshly at Eliott, who winks at Paul and grabs the soda, “Thanks for the drink though,” 

Lucas doesn’t know why he allows himself to be guided -- no,  _ pulled  _ away, but he does. Until they’re out of sight from the booth and he rips himself out from under Eliott’s arm. “What the fuck?” 

“Trust me, I was doing you a favor,” 

“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” he scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eliott snorts, though Lucas doesn’t really find any of this amusing and it only makes him angrier that the older boy does. “Lucas,” he says, “You don’t want that guy, okay?” 

“And why the hell not?” 

“Because he’s not good enough for you,” he responds simply, like it’s such an obvious reason. 

Lucas rolls his eyes, flinging his arms to his side and shifting on his feet. “And I suppose you are, then?” he challenges, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow when Eliott shrugs in a  _ maybe  _ manner. At this, Lucas actually does find it funny and he huffs a bitter laugh. “What does your girlfriend think about that?” Eliott doesn’t say anything, averts his eyes to the floor. “That’s what I thought,” Lucas growls and starts stomping past him, aggressively tugging his hand away when the other reaches for it and tries, 

“Lucas--” but he’s already long gone, back with the rest of the group. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo????
> 
> also, i update tonight because i'm going out of town for about a week and i'm not totally sure when i'll have the opportunity to work on it, so i present you with this chapter in hopes that it might hold you over until the next update
> 
> or not ;)


	4. What’s it Like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what’s it like - sure sure 
> 
> i’ll also be updating chapter titles probably by next update but the song for this chapter is ^^^^^

Eliott has a problem with doing before thinking, and in so, ends up fucking up a lot of shit for himself and sometimes others. Like on saturday night, becoming a jealous asshole and now Lucas most likely thinks he’s a huge dick and hates his guts. 

He tried to make it up to him on Sunday by going to the cafe, try to soothe things over but they told him Lucas wasn’t working. Unfortunately. So he goes again Monday, and then Tuesday, and he’s  _ so  _ close to just asking Alex about the kids’ schedule but he doesn't.

His late afternoon class on Wednesday ends up being cancelled so he decides to take the free time and visit his parents. His family is fairly close, at least he likes to think so, and he’s always been able to find solace when he’s back home. 

He arrives at the familiar white house, the flowers in front that are normally so pretty and colorful, wilted and dried out due to the cold weather. It makes him smile anyways however, as he remembers how beautiful they are in the summer. There’s a Japanese Cherry Blossom in his backyard that only blooms for a short amount of time in the spring before the petals fall off, floating in the wind before piling in the grass below. It's his favorite time of the year specifically because of that. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and he loves drawing it almost as much as he loves watching it. 

When he steps inside he's immediately hit with a warm scent of chocolate chip cookies. The dogs run to greet him, jumps on his legs and whining to be noticed. He bends down to pet them, rubbing behind their ears and giving them each the same amount of attention before standing back up and making his way to the kitchen. His mother’s in there, fresh batch of cookies sitting atop the stove as she observes the ones currently baking. 

“Whose birthday is it?” Eliott asks teasingly because his mom is not a baker in any way, only for special occasions or when-- 

“No one's, just got a craving for something sweet,” and that's where Eliott gets it. He nods his head and grins genuinely, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing here?” 

Rolling his shoulders, he answers, “Class got cancelled, thought I'd come hang out with you guys. Is Maisie here?” 

“She is, she's up in her room. Just got home from school,” 

Eliott gives her another kiss, snatching one of the cooling cookies off the tray and rushing upstairs before his mother can chastise him. 

Maisie is his little sister. She's got curly brown hair that is way darker than his own, and big grey eyes. Eliott will shamelessly admit anytime of the day that a single glance into those will have him wrapped around the little 8 year olds’ finger. It's not lost onto her, either, in fact, she takes advantage of it quite often. 

He knocks on her door before creeking it open just slightly and peaking his head in. “Pssst,” and he takes pride in the way she jumps up from her bed as soon as she sees him. It's not that they don't see each other often because they do, he tries to get over here at least once a week (with the exception of the last 6 months with him traveling and all) they're just very close siblings. 

“Eli!” She wraps her arms his neck excitedly when he bends down to meet her, and he squeezes her back just as tightly. 

“What's up, love? How was school?” 

“Okay,” she shrugs, “My teacher’s sick again so we had a sub,” 

“Who?” 

“Ms. Monroe,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. Eliott chuckles, acutely aware of who she’s referring to, having his own terrible experiences with her when he was in grade school. 

He wrinkles his nose in distaste, “She wasn't my favorite,” His phone vibrates in his pocket but he doesn't reach for it until they've migrated over to the bed where Maisie focuses back on her homework and he sprawls out next to her. He’d offer to help her but they both know she doesn't need it. 

**_Alex_ **

_ Bro, Lucas almost cut his fucking finger off messing around in the kitchen like a dumbass. This is the funniest shit I've ever seen _

He’s not proud of it, because he knows he has no right to be worried and especially after what happened last weekend, but his initial reaction is to type,  _ is he okay?? _ but he stops himself from sending it, instead going with,

**_Eliott_ **

_ That's fucking hilarious  _

_ Haha is he alright tho  _

Sometimes he’s disappointed in himself with how much he feels like he has to “bro” around them. He’s playing it cool, that's all. 

**_Alex_ **

_ Yeah, they just wrapped his hand up  _

_ I'm still laughing  _

_ You should have heard how loud he yelled  _

_ The customers faces, fuck  _

Eliott gets an idea then, glancing up at his little sister and biting his lip in contemplation before making his decision. “Hey, Mase?” 

“Hm?” 

“Wanna take a break from homework?”

 

When they walk into the cafe it's not very packed and they easily have a few choices of seating. Only, Eliott’s attention isn’t much on that, his eyes searching for the short brunette that should be somewhere behind the counter. 

When he spots him, he couldn't hide the grin his lips split into even if he wanted to. Lucas is as beautiful as ever, smiling widely at whichever customer he’s servicing. It's on older lady, and when he hands her her change she takes his good hand in both of hers. Eliott can't tell what they're saying to each other, but Lucas looks rather bashful and it's quite beautiful - the blush on his cheeks. 

“Come on, let’s go get in line,” Eliott puts his hand between Maisie’s shoulder blades, guiding her to the counter. They step in behind the lady as she continues to speak to Lucas, and the other boy doesn't notice them. Not yet. Eliott doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, he can't tell. 

But then bright blue eyes connect to his and it's like looking up at the sun from underwater. It's absolutely breath taking. Until he's forced to watch the smile on the boys’ face morph into a frown when he spots Eliott, his brows furrowing, making the lines on his forehead more evident. 

Eliott sends him a guilty, apologetic smile as he nears. “Hi,” he murmurs, and for the first time in a while he’s shy, hesitant. Which is unusual for him, he’s never timid, not like this, not this obvious. He puts himself out there in a facade of confidence, never showing his insecurities or his fears of being unwanted. 

Lucas nods at him curtly, glancing down to Maisie and nodding to her as well, much more polite and friendly. “What can I get you?” 

“Can I have a chocolate milkshake?” Maisie asks, her hands on the counter and she's just tall enough to look over it. 

Lucas licks his lips nervously, “Oh, ah, we don't actually have milkshakes here…” he trails off, eyes shifting up to Eliott.

“Alex does,” the 8 year old replies, and Lucas snaps his head back down to her, and then to Eliott again, silently begging for help.

“Alex makes them special for her,” the older guy offers, lifting the corner of his mouth. 

“Right, uh-- I’ll go get him then,” Lucas turns around before Eliott can tell him he doesn't have to, it's okay, she can choose something else, but he’s already gone through the door and disappeared. 

Maisie tugs on his hand, “Who was that?” 

“Just a friend, love,” 

“I've never seen him before,” she argues curiously. 

Eliott snorts, “That's because you don't know all of my friends,” 

“Well what's his name?” 

“Lucas,” and boy does he love to say that. It rolls off of his lips so effortlessly, so nicely. He wouldn't mind saying it more often. And just as he does, Alex comes barreling out from the kitchen, beaming when he sees Maisie. Eliott can't help but to mirror it. 

“Mase!” 

“Alex!” 

They're in each other's arms before Eliott knows it, his sister with her arms wrapped around Alex’s neck, her legs around his stomach as he picks her up. “How's it goin’, squirt?” he pinches her cheek, the skin on her face turning pink but Eliott knows it's not from that. He’s always conspired that she might have a bit of a crush on his friend, not that she does much at hiding it. 8 year olds can be very telling. 

She giggles in his grip, not saying anything but it only makes him laugh. “So, the usual?” and she shakes her head yes. “Alright, anything for my favorite Demaury,” and there’s the giggle. 

He puts her down, tapping on the counter as he rounds it and he’s back behind the door. Eliott looks back at Lucas, who’s standing there awkwardly and nibbling on his lip. 

“Mase, why don’t you go find us somewhere to sit, hm?” 

“Okay,” 

When she’s gone, leaving the two guys alone, Eliott shifts towards to Lucas, facing him fully but just as he’s about to open his mouth, Lucas clears his throat. “So, iced coffee? or..” 

Eliott’s taken aback, not expecting the kid to remember his order from  _ one time _ and almost 2 weeks ago. “Uh— yeah, yes.” He stutters, trying not to smile but so miserably failing. He swallows. 

“Caramel?” 

“Caramel,” he licks his own lips, teeth scraping the bottom one. Lucas goes about preparring it, walking to the other side and Eliott follows. “Lucas, uhm—“ he takes a breath, attempting a second try when he isn’t talking to the boys’ back. “The other night—“ 

“It’s fine, I’m not worried about it,” 

“No, but I acted like an asshole and I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” 

“Eliott,” Lucas says firmly, mixing the drink but looking directly into his eyes. “I’m over it,” 

Eliott looks down, unable to hold contact. Maybe it’s out of shame, maybe it’s out of fear, or guilt, or—  _ something _ , but he can’t do it then. “O-okay,” and yet still, he wants to ask,  _ are you sure? because I felt a bit of hostility when I first walked in and… _ and be would, because he doesn’t care about sounding desperate right now. Lucas’ tone is dismissive though, not in a rude way, just— insistant. So Eliott takes it, along with his drink when it’s handed to him. “Thank you,” Lucas nods again, and he’s still reserved, still in his own bubble and not giving Eliott the time of day. 

And  _ fuck,  _ what Eliott would give to have Lucas look at him the same way he looks at Alex or any of the other guys. Or even Ana, or…  _ that Yann guy _ . Eliott wants to be able to touch Lucas like that, make him smile like that, hear him laugh like that. He yearns to be able to play with Lucas’ hair and wrap an arm around his shoulders, feel him pressed into his side. 

Yann’s a lucky guy, that’s one thing Eliott knows for sure. 

“What do I owe you?” They’re back at the register, Lucas guiding the way. 

“$5.33,” 

About that time Alex is back with the milkshake, 3 inches of whipped cream, a layer of rainbow sprinkles and a cherry to top it off. “This is for the princess, just as she likes,” 

Eliott laughs, taking it in his hands. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” he nods at his friend, then at Lucas but the boy is avoiding his eyes. Eliott makes his way to the table, sitting both drinks down and joining his sister. He sits there and talks to her, asks her about her friends, if she likes any of the kids in her class or if she thinks they all just have koodies. After about 10 minutes Alex comes to join them, plopping down next to the girl and tells them he’s on break. 

Eliott clashes with Alex a lot, yes, but he couldn’t ask for a better friend in someone. 

—

—

Eliott lives in a single. He isn’t sure how he got lucky enough to end up with it, or even keep it in the time he was gone, but he did. Sofine and Alex share a room, and though Idriss is apart of the house, he lives back at his parents’. He had moved out there for a while, a couple of years even, but then he had to move back in last year when his parents found out what  _ really  _ happens in a fraternity and said,  _ “You live with us or you quit the house,”  _ It never made sense to Eliott because Idriss still has to come to all of their events - it’s manditory, and those are when things are  _ really  _ chaotic and something that a parent probably wouldn’t want their kids to be apart of,  _ especially  _ the Bakhellal’s. So whatever they think they’re keeping him from, they’re not actually. As much as Eliott loves them. 

He lies on his bed now, throwing a soccer ball up to the ceiling and catching it. He isn’t much of a sporty guy but sometimes he and the other’s go out back and kick it around. He’s got soft music playing from the other side of the room, not loud enough to hear from outside but just enough to fill up the small space he’s in. His phone pings from his bedside, and it’s Lucille’s ringtone so he hesitates to answer it. 

**_Lucille_ **

_ Are you busy tonight? _

**_Eliott_ **

_ Yeah, sorry, the house is planning something. Can’t skip out _

**_Lucille_ **

_ Maybe I can join you?:) _

He sighs, really not in the mood to do anything at all but he knows he’s acting like an asshole. He hasn’t much talked to her since this weekend, mostly ignoring her texts or telling her that he’s just been too busy to talk. It sounds legit, seeing as he’s been gone for so long and there could be a whole slew of things he’s got to catch up on now that he’s back, but the thing is is that there’s really not. He’s been busy, sure, but not  _ loaded _ . Not too busy to stop for a text or meet up for a coffee, even. 

The truth is, Eliott doesn’t feel for Lucille what he once did. Where he used to be madly in love with her, his heart stopping for a second at just the mere thought of her, he feels nothing when he thinks of her now. Well not  _ nothing,  _ there’s still appreciation for all that she’s done for him, all that she’s put up with and helped him through, but there are no romantic feelings. There’s no desire to touch her, nothing pulling at his brain to ask how her day was. He isn’t constantly wondering what’s going on in her life anymore, how is she doing? 

And it’s nothing she did, not at all. He fell out of love with her. And he knows that falling out of love with someone shouldn’t just make you stop caring about them at all, and he hasn’t just  _ stopped _ . He doesn’t  _ not _ care about her, he just— finds himself not as worried about anything having to do with her than he used to be. 

It’s not fair to her, he’s aware, and it’s even worse that he continues to contact her, continues to lead her on, give her false hope that things between them might actually work out. Frankly, he’s a coward. Maybe it’s that he’s scared to be alone and there’s a comfort that comes with knowing that he’ll always have her, she’ll always be there for him to fall back on. It’s fucked up, it’s fucked up for her and he’s fucked up for doing it. 

And yet, 

**_Eliott_ **

_ It’s really just a house thing but I’m free tomorrow if you’re up for it.  _

**_Lucille_ **

_ See you then ❤️ _

Yeah, he’s a real fucking prick. 

\--

\--

The thing he had to go to at the house was really just some mix they were doing with one of the other sororities. Luckily it was being held at the guys’ house instead of the girls’, so he could sneak off to his room when he got too sick of dealing with all the drunken bullshit from everyone, which, judging by his current mood, wasn’t going to take long. 

He was perched on the end of the couch, squished into the arm as the couple next to him get a bit too handy during their makeout session. His beer is propped between his legs and he’s playing on his phone, scrolling through instagram. He had found Lucas’ profile not too long ago, and it wasn’t that difficult what with all the photos the other guys’ have of him on their profiles. He hasn’t followed the kid, not feeling like it was ever really a good time. Tonight’s no different. 

That doesn’t mean he can’t sit and sulk in his alcohol induced stupor, however. And that’s exactly what he does; he scrolls through the feed, staring at each picture and smiling just as he has the last 6 times since he found the account. There are several with Yann, a few with Alex, a couple with Sofiane and Idriss. He’s got quite the collection of female friends, it seems, and Eliott wonders how many of them are his exes, if any. He beams at the picture of the boy and Imane sitting on a bench, her head on his shoulder. Eliott swipes once, sees his favorite one of the two - Lucas squatting on the top of the bench, hair askew (as always but more than usual) and Imane laughing at him. 

_ Fuck  _ he’s cute. 

Eliott zooms in on the photo, blowing up Lucas’ face, and he sighs after starring at it for at least 15 seconds before closing out the screen and throwing his head into the cushion behind him. 

Every minute of everyday it’s  _ Lucas Lucas Lucas.  _ Ever since they met. What would it be like to know him? What would it be like to just lie around his place together? Do mundane fucking things like cooking or shopping? What’s his favorite chip? His t shirt size? What kind of shampoo does he use? Is he the type of guy who believes in zodiacs? Not that Eliott is, but he might be willing to buy into the bullshit just for him. 

He just wants to know him. He wants to live life with him. 

And Jesus fuck he wants to get drunk. This is stressing him out and making him sad. 

 

Getting drunk proves to be a bad idea, considering he’s now sitting alone in the bathroom upstairs, tucked away in the corner and there’s no one there to tell him how horrible of an idea it might be for him to text Lucas while as intoxicated as he currently is. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ Lucss _

_ LucS _

_ LUCAS _

_ its elio  _

_ tt _

Shit, he’s already doing a really bad job and making a fool of himself. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Are you drunk? _

**_srodulv_ **

_ maybe s littlr _

_ what aboit yoi  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Where are the guys? _

**_srodulv_ **

_ why _

_ im perfecyly capable of neing dfjnk snd alone by myselg thank ypu  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ …. _

_ Okay. _

_ So youre good, then? _

**_srodulv_ **

_ soooooo good _

_ well id be beyyer if u were herw _

_ im an assholr  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Youre not an asshole, eliott _

**_srodulv_ **

_ if omly uou knew  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ What does that mean? _

There’s a knock on the door and Eliott manages to slur out a, “Occupied,” before he hears what he can only assume is Idriss calling his name from outside and then opening the door. “Hi,” Eliott giggles, peering up at him the best he can with his blurry vision. 

“Ah dude you're wasted,” 

Eliott giggles again, holding up his thumb and pointer in a small gesture. 

“Alright, come on,” Idriss bends down to wrap an arm around his waist and the other behind his back as he lifts, simultaneously pushing and pulling Eliott’s weight to get him on his feet. “At least you're already upstairs so I don't have to drag your drunk ass up here by myself,” It’s an easy tone, light, not annoyed, and Eliott is thankful for it. He's not typically an emotional drunk (not that he’s drunk very often) and mostly he’s happy and fun to be around, but he’s been in his feelings for most of the afternoon, stuck in his own self depracating head since he talked to Lucille. 

“M sorry, Idriss,” he murmurs tiredly into his friends’ neck. 

“For what?” 

“Being such a fuckin’ mess,” 

Idriss breathes a small laugh, “You’re not a mess, Eliott, it’s okay,” When they finally get into his room and Idriss is able to tuck him into his bed, Eliott speaks again, still mumbling his words but they're comprehendable enough. 

“Um, Idriss?”

“Hm?” 

“Sorry again, about..last time…” 

He thinks maybe he can hear his friend swallow from the other side of the room. And alas, “It’s okay, Eliott.” 

Maybe so, but he should still probably get his shit together. 

\--

\--

Meeting Lucille the next day is almost absolutely intolerable. He wakes up late, splitting headache and torn up stomach but what else did he expect? He’s late to meet her and then is immediately chastised when she sees the state he’s in. 

“You got drunk last night, didn't you?” She asks, animosity heavy in her tone and she cuts her eyes disapprovingly at him. He puts his head down, part in shame and another part in annoyance - he’s not a baby, he doesn't need to be treated like this. His silence is answer enough for her and she scoffs. “Fucking A, Eliott, you know what that does to you.” 

Pursing his lips and rolling his eyes, he petulantly looks off to the side, ignoring her. 

“How much have you drank since you got back?” 

No answer. 

Lucille slams her hand on the table. “It’s not a fucking joke, Eliott.” 

He snaps his head, glaring and spitting, “I’m not laughing about it, am I? I’m allowed to let loose every once in a while, okay? I don’t need you montering every fucking thing I do, Lucille. I went 6 months without you or a damn episode, I think I can do without you babying me for a little longer.” 

It was harsh and he knows she’s not to blame for his bad mood, but she’s the only one around to deal with it right now.

Eliott’s expecting her to hastily scoot her seat out and stomp out of whatever cafe they’re at, maybe growl some of her own harsh words at him like,  _ fuck you, Eliott,  _ or  _ okay, i’m done. you’re on your own.  _ because God knows he fucking deserves it, but they never come. Instead she puts a hand on her forehead, sighing as she slips into her thoughts. Chatter buzzes around them but their table is quiet, not a word to be uttered between the two of them. 

Until, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. I get it,” 

He wants to scream internally. It makes it worse that she’s being nice to him, it makes it worse that she’s still sitting here with him and putting up with his bullshit, being understanding about it. He felt shitty about how he treated her, yes, but he was also half expecting her to finally give up on him and leave him already. Fuck. 

“No, you don’t get it,” he argues, agging it on. “You don’t know what it’s like up here,” he points a harsh finger to his head. “It’s fucked, Lucille.” he says bitterly, emotionless. “Everything is fucked.” 

She considers him, eyes roaming over his face, her gazed laced with a million questions and then it seems to dawn on her what he said, the double meaning behind his words. She exhales, entangles her fingers and sets them in her lap, “Okay,” calm and collected. “I can see you’re stressed out, you need some time. I’m gonna leave, and you can call me when you’re ready, okay?” When she stands up she takes 2 steps closer, putting what she hopes to be a comforting hand on his. “I love you,” she smiles sweetly, pityingly and then turns around and exits. 

It’s Eliott’s turn to let out a breath now. It’s aggrivated, it’s angry, it’s guilty, it’s all these fucking things rolled up in one and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it. 

He shakes his head, pulling out his phone from his pocket to check the time and it’s only when he sees an instagram notification that everything from last night comes barreling back to him. He swipes over on the message to take him to the chat, and in nothing but sheer embarrassment he reads through. He can feel his face heating up, instant regret washing over him as he scrolls back down to Lucas’ newest message.

**_lucallemant_ **

_ How do you feel this morning?  _

And Eliott thinks about it, tilts his head to the side as he really _really_ does ponder, and then exits out without replying. 

Not right now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out i’ve had a lot of time to write in a 15 hr car ride :) i hope you enjoyed!!!


	5. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fall - half alive

He was surprised when he got the first message. He had been sitting on his couch with the boys, everyone sprawled out and watching some random movie on netflix that Lucas wasn’t much into in the first place - he’s not a big fan of bugs and especially not of them crawling inside your body. But he sat there anyways and watched with narrow eyes, repulsed by the entire thing when his phone lit up in his hands and that’s when he saw the messages from Eliott. 

He could tell immediately that he clearly wasn’t what you would call “100% sober”, and then Lucas remembered that the house was throwing some sort of party so he put two and two together. He had also been surprised to see the guy show up at his work the day before, with what appeared to be his little sister (Alex confirmed it after they had left.) Eliott apologized for acting like a douche on saturday night, which Lucas really wasn’t that concerned about. He had forgotten about it as soon as he got home. Perhaps Eliott had saved him from making some sort of mistake, Lucas didn’t even really want to hook up with the guy from the bowling alley anyways but he was alone and sad and it’s not really a great mix of feelings. 

He had been honest when he told Eliott that he was over it, truly, but Lucas had come to a conclusion with himself after saturday that he needed to keep his distance - put a barrier up between the two and keep it up. No matter how hard it was clearly proving to be, seeing as Eliott was no doubt the most enticing person he had ever met in his entire life. Nevertheless, Lucas knew a catastrophe when he saw one and he and Eliott together would most definitely end up turning into nothing but. 

So he closed himself off and stilted their interactions. It was going so good, too. He hadn’t even thought of the college boy (that much) since he had left the cafe on wednesday afternoon. That was, until thursday night came along and his phone was blowing up with embarrassingly terribly spelled drunk texts from the newest intruder of his thoughts. 

When Lucas meets someone as intimidating as Eliott is, he becomes shy and reserved, and it comes off as rude and unfriendly. It gives people the wrong impression and he hates it because he’s  _ not  _ unfriendly. At least, he doesn’t think he is. He likes to think of himself as approachable and easy to talk to. Sometimes he can catch himself in the act, when he’s talking to someone and isn’t as... _ expressive  _ and  _ outgoing  _ as the person that he’s talking to is, then he tries to be better about it. Add a little more emotion to his voice, smile a bit wider and more often in the conversation. 

Sometimes he doesn’t catch himself though. 

And he did actually catch it at the cafe the other day, but instead of fixing it he remained the same because he felt like it was better for the both of them if he was closed off so that he wouldn’t allow himself to fall for Eliott’s charm since it’s  _ so fucking easy  _ to do. 

Then he felt like  _ he  _ was the asshole for making Eliott think that it was him instead. It’s a whole mess now. 

Unless it’s actually not and it’s just Lucas’ brain making him overthink everything and make things so needlessly complicated as he tends to do. 

Either way, he couldn’t stop his dumb fucking fingers from picking up his phone while he sat in class on friday afternoon and checking in on the older boy at last. 

It’s now almost 2 hours since he sent the text and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t itching to reach into his pocket every 3 seconds to see a reply since Eliott has yet to send one. He’s at lunch, crammed up at a table between Yann and Arthur that’s only big enough to fit the four of them and  _ maybe  _ a couple more but the girls insist on eating with them too so they’re all just squished together in one small spot and Lucas feels like he can’t breathe, let alone stretch his elbow out to pick at his food properly. 

It’s nothing that’s too incredibly tasty anyways, so he throws his fork down and pushes his tray forward, putting his head on the table tiredly. He closes his eyes in hopes of drowning out the noise around him but it’s no help, and he’s forced to open them back up when he has the misfortune of hearing his own name come out of Daphne’s mouth. 

He loves her, truthfully, he can’t imagine life without her but when she says his name in the form of a question with  _ that  _ tone, it can never be good and usually involves him doing something that he indisputably doesn’t want to do and then somewhere towards the end reluctantly realizes it wasn’t as bad as he thought and he’ll never be able to say no to her. In all actuality. 

“Hm?” he hums, lifting his head and sluggishly peering at her from the other end of the table. 

“The party? Can you host it at your house next friday?” 

“Ah..party?” 

She rolls her eyes and leans forward so she can get a better look at him. They’re sitting on the same side of the table so she’s got to speak over a few people. “GSA!” 

Right, GSA. During their second year Daphne and Alexia had gotten the - Lucas isn’t going to lie, it’s a pretty great - idea to start a Gay-Straight Alliance in their school and meet up in the common room. It’s taken off better than any of them could have ever even dreamt of, and more and more people join with every passing day. Lots of kids have come out (both Lucas and Daphne being included), having nothing but sheer love and support from the other kids in there and in Lucas’ opinion it’s brought the school together and more connected than it’s ever been. 

And that’s why he agrees, this time with no disrelish at the thought of throwing a party at his house and having an inevitable amount of a fuck ton of people there. As opposed to how he would normally react which would most likely be an  _ absolutely not, Daphy.  _

She squeals, clapping her hands in excitement and thanking him with more enthusiasm than might be necessary but who is Lucas to be the judge of that? “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says over and over again and Lucas gets the impression that had they been standing next to each other and not cozied up in an overcrowded table, she might have just wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. 

All he can do is smile at her fondly, and it’s so wide that it makes his eyes crinkle.

The rest of the day passes by rather uneventfully with no other news from his older companion. He refrains from checking the chat in fear that Eliott has seen it and just chose to ignore him, and by the time he gets home he decides that maybe this is what’s best. A sign from the universe further proving that they’re just not fit for each other. 

When he walks through his front door his senses are immediately overcome by the sound of his pup barking. He knows exactly where she is and he waits, grinning as he hears the sounds of her tiny footsteps pad against the hardwood floors getting louder and louder as she gets closer and closer until she’s running around the corner. There’s no question that she has more energy inside her than her teeny little body can hold. 

A little pomeranian that was his idea to get in hopes that she would keep his mother company while he’s busy. They had a dog before, a german shepherd name Fille that Lucas had had since he was just a little boy, unfortunately she had passed a couple years ago and the two Lallemant’s have just recently felt it was finally time to maybe try again. Hence Sasha.

He bends down to pick her up at the same time that her small legs leap into his arms. She licks all over his face, wagging her little pompom tail back and forth and hitting his wrist. 

“Hi, Sauce,” he greets and laughs as she tickles his skin. She whines in eagerness, happy that she’s no longer alone and he’s back now. Though they had got her for Lucas’ mom, it’s no lie that the pup has mostly taken to him more than she has his mama. And maybe he loves the little blow dried rat as much as she seems to love him. 

He didn’t think it possible, but when he asks her if she needs to go outside she only wiggles more. He puts her down, grabbing her leash before squatting to hook it onto her and then leads her outside. It doesn’t take long for her to do her business and then they’re back inside, curled up next to each other on the couch as he works on his biology homework. Thanks to Imane, he’s actually doing a lot better in the class than he was before they started working together. 

After about an hour and a half of him being at home alone, he gets a text from his mom telling him that she’s probably going to be at work late and he was going to have to make his own dinner. He sighs, used to it so it’s not really a big deal, but he still wishes it wasn’t as recurring as it was. Or at least not as often as it is. 

He ponders ordering a pizza, figures that if he’s going to be here alone all night, because chances are “working late” means not to be home before he locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, he might as well call Yann over and see if he wants to join him so that maybe he isn’t as miserable as he was originally going to be. 

**_Lucas_ **

_ Pizza?? _

**_Yann_ **

_ Be there in 10 _

Lucas smiles, he couldn’t imagine a life without Yann. Inseparable since birth, practically. Their moms grew up together, coincidentally got pregnant at the same time, and now here are their children - the best of fucking friends. 

Yann’s that person that when Lucas is upset, whether it be familial reasons, a loss, a break up, or just a bad day because someone yelled at him on the bus, he goes to Yann. He  _ craves  _ his presence, his comforting aura, the natural way he has about him that just makes Lucas feel safe. 

And he proves it time and time again that he  _ is  _ Lucas’ safe place. The one constant thing in his life that has never changed, never made him question their part or how long they’re here for, never made him feel like he was anything less than deserving of the entire world. 

First person Lucas came out to. First person Lucas went to after Fille passed. The  _ only  _ person to know about the disaster of a relationship (or lack thereof) he has with his father. And Lucas is sure that if he knew about James’ drug problem and the mess that was them as a couple, it might have been a hell of a lot easier to deal with - confiding to someone about it while it was happening rather than dealing with it by himself. 

Or maybe not, maybe it would have been the same. Lucas doesn’t know. Point is, Yann is his person. The brother he never had; the Turk to his JD; the Nick to his Schmidt; the Gus to his Shawn. 

He was also walking through the door right now and  _ shit,  _ Lucas forgot to order the pizza. It’s obvious in his guilty expression as he sheepishly peers up at the boy, but he makes sure to put his puppy dog eyes into full effect so that Yann can’t stay mad at him for long. 

“It’s really unfair how you just do that and all is forgiven,” 

“Do what?” Lucas asks innocently, hiding his smirk. 

“Fucker,” he mutters as he plops onto the couch. “So what are we watching?” he reaches for the remote to turn on the tv, making himself comfortable. 

Lucas watches as he does it and can’t help the grin that morphs onto his lips. “Ah, homework, sorry,” the eyeroll he gets in return is  _ actually audible,  _ that’s how dramatic it was, and Lucas chuckles as he searches for the pizza place in his contacts. After calling and ordering, he tries his best to focus his attention back on his paper but it’s more difficult than before because his phone is just  _ right there  _ and it would be such a simple movement if he just tapped a couple buttons and solved the damn nagging inside his head and entire body that’s been occurring since he first sent the damn message.

He can feels Yann’s eyes on him as he sighs and throws his phone on the table, a slight chance that it was a bit more harsh than particularly called for, but he doesn’t care. 

And as if Yann can read his thoughts (which he’s been known to do from time to time), the other boy asks, “Has Eliott messaged you back?” 

“No,” 

“Mm..he’s probably just busy,” Ever the optimist, “He’ll get back to you,” 

Lucas levels him with a look, “How do you know?” and Yann smirks mischievously, his hand coming out to pinch Lucas’ cheek and tug. 

“You’re irresistible,” 

Lucas laughs and nudges his hand away, turning back to the papers spread about in his lap. “I don’t even know if I want him to,” he confesses quietly, helplessly. 

“Why?” 

“Uh, he’s got a girlfriend for one,” 

Yann exasperatedly tosses his head back, “A girlfriend that clearly means nothing to him if the way he was  _ obviously  _ ogling you and undressing you with his fucking eyes all night has anything to say about it,” and Lucas scoffs before his friend continues, “And the fact that he was drunk texting you all night last night,” 

“Drunk being the key word,” 

Yann narrows his eyes, watching him pointedly. “Drunk words are nothing but sober thoughts, Lulu,” 

Lucas snickers. “Shut up,” he pushes at the other boy playfully. 

“I’m serious!” 

“Either way, I’m not talking to him while Lucille’s in the picture,” he states firmly, standing by his decision. 

“And if she wasn't?” 

See, that’s a good question. A good question that Lucas doesn't have an answer to because the more he thinks about it and obsesses about it and daydreams sea green eyes and a head full of fluff, the more he’s starting to realize that the whole girlfriend argument he’s been preaching is nothing but an excuse. 

Silence says everything, and Yann snorts smugly. “That's what I thought,” 

“Fuck off. Are you gonna help me with my homework or not?” Pleading eyes. Can't say no. 

Yann eyes him, then his paper, back to him, back to the paper and then him alas. He wrinkles his nose and he’s got the whole  _ disgusted and uninterested  _ facial expression down pat. And yet, “Damn it,” he curses, caving. He moves his hand in a  _ give me _ motion, “What is it?” 

\--

\--

At 20h they've switched from tv to video games, and the only way Lucas could agree (because it might be his least favorite thing on Earth to do) is if he could pick what they played, and of course he chose  _ Smash. _ Currently he sits in his floor with his back pressed into the bottom of the couch, Yann sitting criss cross above him. He’s winning, Yann, and it’s no surprise at all. There is absolutely no chance that Lucas would end up in lead, considering he has no controller skills at all and he just button presses the entire time, no matter how many times his friends attempt to teach him how to actually play, it's no use. Yet he continues to yell at the screen in protest, curse when he dies, and accuse Yann of cheating or using a tool so many times. Even though he has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“ _ Dude, _ ” he exclaims, “Back off,” 

“Do better,” Yann counters, and Lucas can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. 

Lucas scrunches up his face and silently mocks him before he feels a flick to the back of his neck and then he snorts. 

After a few more minutes of Lucas acting like he knows what he’s doing, he vaguely hears a vibrate sound from somewhere in the room but he thinks nothing of it - enjoying himself and the night. Until, “Hey, uh— Lu?” 

“Mhm?” 

When he doesn’t get a reply, he half turns his head with a raised eyebrow and sees Yann biting his lip and nodding to the couch cushion where Lucas’ phone sits, out in the open and completely neglected. 

His eyes flit back and forth between the device and his friend, the two of them doing so for  _ at least  _ 6 seconds and then they both lunge at it, flinging themselves forward. Yann gets it, of course, because he’s closer and all he has to do is reach out his arm. Lucas tackles him, crawling onto his back and demanding, “Give it to me!” 

Yann only laughs, maneuvering his way where his hand is out of the smaller boys’ reach. “Yann, fucking asshole, let me have it,” 

“I’m trying to read it!” He argues, attempting to throw Lucas off of him but the boy's got his legs wrapped around tight. Like a fucking monkey. Or a koala bear. 

“ _ No, _ ” he pushes at Yann’s face, hand awkwardly pressing into his cheek. “Give. Me. My—“ 

It vibrates again. A second message. 

They both freeze, staring at it with wide eyes. 

Lucas gulps and hesitatingly whispers, “What does it say?” 

“ _ ‘Shitty all day but not so bad anymore,’  _ with a winky face, and then he said,  _ ‘sorry, I've been so busy,’ _ ” 

Lucas blushes as he gets read the texts, lost in a daze as he leans his chin on the back of Yann’s head and grins warmly. There's really no reason for how heated his face is, but it’s happening. As it tends to do when the situation involves Eliott. 

“Right,” Yann voices, drawing the word out. “And how's it going keeping your distance?” 

“Piss off,” Lucas grumbles, grabbing his cell, climbing off the body underneath him, and planting his butt on the cushion. He licks his lips as he contemplates a reply. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ I’m sorry you feel bad  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ I’m sorry I harassed you with drunk texts all night. I’m not typically like that, just so you know  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ It’s alright, it was amusing mostly haha _

_ Hope Idriss didn't give you too much shit though  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ Ah, so it was you who told on me  _

Lucas blanches, feeling instantly horrible and starts hastily typing out an apology but Eliott texts again. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ I’m kidding, Lucas  _

_ It’s not his first time having to babysit one of our drunk asses _

_ Sofiane gives him quite the practice ;) _

He laughs because he knows it isn’t true - Sofiane’s the most put together person out of any of them. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Yann’s voice tugs Lucas out of his spell of beaming down at his phone distractedly, no thoughts in his head other than trying to imagine if Eliott’s in the same position right now. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he hears Yann snort and then he looks over at him. “What?” 

Mirth laced in his words, teasing shining through his irises. “Nothing, dude, just find it funny how fucking lovesick you are right now. 

“I’m not  _ lovesick _ ,” Lucas defends himself and narrows his eyes. “I can’t be, I barely know him,” 

“It’s never stopped you before,” 

“I was fucking 13, alright? I can’t be held responsible for anything I did then,” 

“You wrote notes every morning and stuffed them in that guys' locker, bro,” 

“So?!”

“Without ever talking to him! Not once!” 

Okay, he’s not wrong. Lucas may have gotten a little ahead of himself but again, he was 13. He had no self awareness at that age. Who does?

“Whatever,” he brushes it off, shaking his head. “I’m not going to fall in love with Eliott, okay?” 

Yann considers him, eyeing him suspiciously and Lucas can feel the contradiction coming. “Isn’t that why you’re ‘keeping your distance’ in the first place?” and wow, he uses air quotes and everything. Douche. 

“I can't very well fall in love with a taken man, now can I?” 

“Yes.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes because his friend is right. Again. As always. 

If he thinks about it, he can come up with hundreds of different reasons that are literally just getting thrown at him why he shouldn't fuck with Eliott. Why it would be such a horrible, no good, extremely terrible and heartbreaking idea, and yet, here he is. Pining away. Longing. Yearning. Wishing. 

Eventually he concludes that knowing Eliott Demaury and  _ not _ falling absolutely, completely, hopelessly in love with him is in fact  _ impossible.  _

And here he is again, getting ahead of himself. He just needs to beat it into his brain. Lucille. Lucille. Lucille. 

_ Lucille. Lucille. Lucille.  _

\--

\--

He works all day Saturday, long and hard with tons of unreasonable customers, nonstop complaining and it's safe to say that he is officially  _ done _ with the day. Exhausted. 

Doesn't stop him from agreeing to ride back with Alex to the fraternity though because what else is he supposed to do? 

Despite it being a Saturday night, the place is pretty full. Most of the brothers are there from what it looks like, and they all greet Lucas when he walks in with either a thrown up peace sign from the other side of the room, a vague head tilt without much further acknowledgement, or coming up to him  _ only  _ so they can ruffle his hair like he’s some 10 year old. 

And he accepts it all with open arms. 

Miles, one of the upperclassmen who pretty much keeps to himself but is also fairly social with everyone, comes bounding down the stairs and as he soon he spots the high schooler, jumps to him in excitement and high fives him. They have their own handshake, Lucas and him, and Alex always looks at them like they're fucking weird for doing it, which Lucas always responds with, “You're just jealous you don't have one yourself,” Like now.  

They laugh together, moving to the second living room because it's less crowded and they make themselves comfortable on the sofas. “Is there anything going on tonight?” Alex calls out to no one in particular, and he pretty much gets a collective grunt from them all in response. He shrugs, mutters something about it being time to get drunk and then he disappears into the kitchen for about 5 minutes. 

While he’s gone Lucas makes small talk with those around him, they tease him about his previous dumbass mistakes whilst intoxicated and he can only chuckle along with them in embarrassment, no way to defend himself. When Alex comes back he’s got two full bottles of vodka in his hands, a devious grin on his face. “You coming?” he asks, and Lucas smirks, standing up to follow him. 

Around an hour later they’re spread out around a fire in the backyard - Alex, Lucas and some of the other brothers, all in their own different discussions. Lucas isn't drunk necessarily, probably more bordering along the lines of tipsy,  _ if  _ that, and he’s not sure why it’s on his mind, but he turns to Alex and asks, 

“What made you choose Ana?” he wasn’t expecting the snort he receives in response. 

“I didn't choose Ana. Ana chose me,” 

Lucas smiles gently. “Do you love her?”

“So much, dude,” and he should have figured Alex a sappy drunk. “So fucking much,” 

About that time they hear chatter and footsteps behind them, and Lucas swivels to see Eliott and Sofiane ambling out of the doors. They’re talking animatedly to each other but it dies down pretty quickly as they approach. Sofiane’s mouth stretches into a wide grin, clapping Lucas on the shoulder. When Lucas’ eyes land on Eliott, he’s already watching him with a small smile, a look on his face Lucas can't quite describe.

The two had texted all night, only stopping when Lucas eventually confessed he couldn't keep his eyes open for any longer. And as disappointed as he was but hated to admit for a couple different reasons, their conversation had unfortunately (or maybe not. he doesn’t know anymore) not picked up this morning. 

He nods his head in greeting and Eliott smiles bigger, moving to sit next to Sofiane, who’s perched himself on the other side of the youngest boy. 

Alex is apparently a bit more affected by the drinking than Lucas had initially thought, because he sits there staring at the fire, seemingly lost in thought before he mumbles, “You know what? I’m gonna go call her,” Lucas bites his lip in amusement and nods when Alex stands up, and then he shakes his head at Sofiane’s confused gaze. 

“Want some?” Lucas offers, pointing the neck of the bottle towards his friend. Sofiane contemplates it, moving his lips to the side and then settles with, 

“Nah, I’m pretty beat,” and it isn’t long after that he’s shuffling off to his room too, effectively leaving Lucas and Eliott by themselves. A beat of awkward silence passes, Lucas looking anywhere but at  _ him,  _ and then  _ he  _ ends up scooting closer anyway, taking Sofiane’s spot and maybe sitting a little closer but it’s okay. 

“So,” he starts, “Come here often?” and Lucas snaps his head over, wide blue eyes as he takes in the gaiety written all over the older guys’ face, and he can’t stop the deep rumble of laughter that makes its way out of his throat. When Eliott turns back to the fire, Lucas takes the opportunity to roam his eyes down his body, a chance to observe the things he hasn’t been able to yet. The guy’s wearing only a black hoodie to keep him warm, and his sleeves rolled up at that. There’s a slit in his jeans at his knees, a small tattoo showing and Lucas wonders what other tattoos he has. If he has any in some more interesting areas. What do they mean? 

Like the simple cartoon animal made of inked lines on the underside of his forearm. 

“What’s that?” he questions, his curiosity getting the best of him. And Eliott turns his head to see what Lucas is referring to, moving his arm to give him a better view of the art. 

“It’s my spirit animal,” 

“The badger is your spirit animal?” and the mock disappointment that covers his expressions makes Lucas giggle.

“It’s a  _ raccoon, _ ” he clarifies. “The raccoon is my spirit animal,” 

“Ah, so what’s mine?” 

Eliott grins slightly, eyes dipping to Lucas’ lips and back up. “I’ll have to think about it,” 

“A tiger?” 

“You’re too small for a tiger,” 

Lucas scoffs and chides, “You’re too big for a raccoon.” There’s a beautiful breathy laugh that he gets, and in that moment he thinks he’d rather hear that than anything else for his entire life. 

“Maybe a bunny,”

“For you?” 

“For  _ you, _ ” 

“So you get a fucking badger with a cool night mask and I get a  _ bunny? _ ” That’s no fair. 

“ _ Raccoon, _ and what’s wrong with bunnies? They’re cute and can be assholes when they want. Have you ever been bitten by a bunny? It’s not fun,” 

Lucas is keenly aware of how close they’re sitting now, inches away from the other and if he had any sort of willpower at all then he’d move back some, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns slightly and throws his arm over the back of the deck sofa they’re occupying. “No,” he shakes his head persistently.  “I veto it,” 

Eliott outright laughs at this, seemingly getting a kick out of Lucas’ stubbornness. “You can’t veto it,” 

“Yes, try again,” 

The older guy considers him, nibbling on his bottom lip to bite back a smile. “Okay,” he accedes, “Hamster,” 

“Why are you picking all of the small ones?” Eliott gives him a pointed look, one the younger boy can't quite deny. He grumbles, fingers playing with the rim of the bottle. 

They chat more about spirit animals and they both decide to just let it come naturally to Eliott instead of forcing it. Lucas agrees to wait, however impatiently, to know what it is. He isn't sure how long they sit out there but he knows it’s getting late and he should probably start heading home if he doesn't want his mom to worry. If she even notices he’s not there.

There's movement to their right, a girls' giggle and guy shushing her, and when moves to look he sees Chase guiding a cute blonde in through the gate. He catches Lucas' eye and winks. "Lallemant," it's too flirty to sound friendly. Even in front of his _friend_.

"Chase," and when they pass by Elliot's watching him too, and Lucas can't quite read him. 

"You know Chase, huh?" 

Lucas shrugs, "Not very well.." he doesn't exactly want to get into detail about how he got shit faced at the house one night and tried to whore himself out. “Anyways, I should get going,”

“I’ll walk you home,” 

Lucas peers up at him through long lashes, “It’s okay,” he tries, “You don't have to,” 

“I want to,” 

And who is he to argue with that?

He really doesn't live that far away from the house, probably only about a 10 to 15 minute walk, but they take their time, walking leisurely down the streets of Paris even though Lucas is almost shivering it’s so cold. Eliott had grabbed his jacket before they left after Lucas insisted he wear it because it was  _ way too fucking chilly out  _ to go without it especially when you're not sitting by a fire anymore.

The city is busy, he’s sure, but the neighborhoods they walk through are dark and silent, only the street lamps lighting up the roads. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Eliott asks when they’re about a block away. It’s so random and sudden, Lucas is taken aback by it. 

“Soulmates? Ah..maybe? I’ve never given it much thought,” he eyes Eliott, who’s staring at the ground as they walk. Lucas ponders what he wants to say, and he almost doesn't because perhaps it’s not a topic he should bring up. And then he opts to anyways. “Is Lucille your soulmate?” 

Eliott doesn't say anything, but Lucas can see the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows. Or gulps, it's possible. Alas, he avows, “I don't think so, no,” 

And  _ fuck,  _ that’s not Lucas wants to hear right now. He  _ can't  _ hear that, it’ll only bring unwanted hope and  _ that  _ brings a recipe for disaster.  _ Atrocity,  _ even. 

“How come?” 

The next thing that comes out of Eliott's mouth is certain and weighty, no room for doubt. No room for hesitation or reconsideration. And he looks at Lucas when he says it, eyes boring into his own. 

“Because I'm not in love with her.” 

It’s Lucas who gulps this time. 

Eliott continues, “And I haven't been, not for a while,” he shifts and starts walking again, like he hasn't just wrecked Lucas’ entire world with 7 simple words. 

“Oh, uh-- I’m sorry,” he stammers, because what else is he to respond? 

“S’okay. Time to meet new people, start new things,” the older guy winks and when they come to halt in front of Lucas’ building, he moves to stand in front of the shorter boy, gazing down at him. It's been a recurring theme all night - the two glancing at each other's lips for half a second and then away, or 5 seconds and away. There's no in between. 

And definitely not now. Because as he’s nearing his 5th second of the only thing in his sight Eliott’s beautiful fucking welcoming lips, it's becoming increasingly more impossible to turn away as opposed to leaning in. 

He doesn't know how he does it, but he does. As much as he regrets it, and  _ fucking A, does he regret it,  _ he clears his throat, mere centimeters apart. “I’m gonna go now,” he whispers and his voice comes out scratchy and uneven, hoarse. 

“Are you sure?” 

_ No.  _ “Y-yes,” 

“Okay,” it’s Eliott who takes the first step back and puts an (un)fair amount of space between them. But he does bring up a hand, sliding his fingers down Lucas’ chest before tangling one in the end of his scarf. He tugs lightly. “I like this,” 

Lucas is speechless. The effects of the alcohol are wearing off and he’s back to being a shy, bashful mess who blushes at every sound made. 

Eliott just smiles though, his eyes crinkling at the sides in that beautiful way. “See you,” 

“Right,” the younger boy nods, backing away and trying his fucking damndest not to trip. “See you,” and he makes it inside his building, all the way up the stairs and behind his door before he collapses against it. A grin on his face he can't seem to wipe off. 

So much for keeping his distance.


	6. Fire Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry this is so late. I’ve been extremely busy in the last week but I hope it was worth the wait!! 
> 
> chapter title (and song in the fic) is Fire Escape by Foster The People
> 
> OKAY AND IF THE LINKS DON’T WORK, IM REALLY SORRY. the second one is supposed to take you to the actual photo & not the fucking search bar, dang it. but if it does happen, the first picture that should pop up after you click it is what i had in mind.

They’re all sprawled out in a booth at an old diner that’s been a favorite of theirs since they first started uni. Originally, Alex, Ana and Eliott sat on one side, while Lucas sat on the other squished between the wall and Idriss, Sofiane next to the latter. 

Perhaps if Eliott and Sofiane had arrived earlier and not after everyone had already picked their seats, the guy would be more lucky and satisfied with the arrangements, but he still can't find himself complaining all that much. He’s still somewhat facing Lucas even if they're not directly across from each other. He can still watch the way the boy folds in on himself when he laughs, clutching at his stomach when something is funny enough; or the way every now and then he runs a hand through his hair to freshen up the wildness of it, make sure it isn't falling flat. At one point Alex teases him about it: “You’re almost as bad as Eliott doing that,” and Eliott's less paying attention to the jab at himself and more to the shy smile Lucas sends him when their eyes meet. 

Eventually Lucas claims he needs to use the bathroom and Eliott's half tempted to say the same just so he can get some one on one time, but he figures that's probably going too far and following someone into the toilet isn't exactly the most romantic move he can make. 

However, when Lucas gets back, that's when things start to get good. The two boys on his side see him approach and they both move to slide out of the booth to let him back in, but he waves them off. “I can sit here,” he tells them, and if Eliott didn't know any better he’d say the boy was intentionally avoiding his gaze. Possibly, and Eliott's just going out on a limb here, it could be because there's a clear light shade of pink tinting his cheeks when he sits back down that he’s trying desperately to hide. Eliott can still see it though. 

And he loves it. Basks in the fact that  _ he does that.  _ He’s able to do that! To someone as gorgeous and jaw dropping as Lucas Lallemant. 

And silly Eliott - so distracted by the smaller boys’ genuine beauty and blinding reflection of sunlight that he barely even notices what's  _ actually  _ happening and it's the fact that they're now sitting directly in front of the other. 

Every time he’s this close, he finds it more and more difficult to comprehend how someone can look so fucking remarkable by just existing like this. Eliott never forgets what Lucas looks like, no way, but with each time he meets him he’s instantly struck, always so taken aback by the boys’ looks and warmness. And it never gets easier, not in the least. Never gets less intense,  _ always  _ overwhelming but it's a good kind. He likes this feeling. 

And he must be staring, lost in a daze but is snapped out of it when he sees Lucas’ mouth moving, talking. 

“Hm?” Eliott asks as he leans forward, full attention. 

“I asked if you were okay,” 

“Ah, yeah?” Of course he is, how could he not be? 

“Well you just kind of zoned out, so..” 

He smiles, “Right, sorry. Got distracted,” and maybe the only reason he sends a wink is because he knows exactly the reaction he'll get from the younger boy - the immediate blush, the downcast of the eyes, the meek upturn of his lips. Eliott can't help it, he can't get enough of it, really. 

Under the table, he moves his foot forward until he feels something solid, and he gently presses the toe of his shoe into it. Judging by the way Lucas’ eyes instantly shoot to his, Eliott knows he’s found the right thing and he grins coyly. The boy clears his throat and looks away, his focus on whatever conversation the rest of their friends are having, but he doesn't move his foot away. In fact, he slips it closer, lining it with Eliott’s. 

“--and then she said that I was never going to find anyone better than her so I said chill, I already have and that's why I was breaking up with her in the first place,” 

Eliott has no idea what the hell Idriss is going on about but all he knows is that Ana just pretty aggressively slammed her palm into her forehead and Alex almost spit his drink out from laughing so hard. Sofiane is shaking his head in amused disappointment. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks. 

When Alex catches his breath he replies, “This dude is fucking incredible,” and Eliott looks questioningly at Sofiane for a straight answer. 

“Ingrid,” 

Lucas jumps forward then, leaning over the table and sticking his head in, “Are you serious?” he exclaims, shock written all over his face. Eliott doesn't know much about this Ingrid but from what he’s heard she doesn't seem like a girl he’d probably much enjoy spending his time with. “Do you know that when I broke up with Sarah she nearly fucking murdered me? I can only imagine what she’ll do to you,” 

_Sarah._ And he wont feel shamed at the fact that that’s the only thing Eliott got out of anything he said. “Sarah?” he inquires, because he can't fucking help himself and he’s not proud of it but it happens. Lucas turns his head slightly and their eyes meet. 

He mutters under his breath, “An ex,” and the older guy cocks his eyebrow, his interest peaking (not that it wasn't already.) “It was before I came out,” but it's so quiet and abashed that Eliott aches to ask for more, wanting full detail and backstory to what could ever possibly make Lucas sound like  _ that.  _ So different from his usual coolness. 

Before he can really say anything, try to send encouraging words or comfort or  _ something,  _ Idriss is addressing him, replying to his previous comment. “I’m not worried,” he states crisply as he leans back into the booth and throws an arm over the headrest. “She didn't really seem too bothered by it,” 

Ana narrows her eyes, curiosity evident in her voice when she behests, “Explain,” 

Idriss rolls his shoulders, “Well she really just nodded and said okay so I asked if we were still friends and she was like, ‘oh of course,’ and that was that, basically,” and even Eliott can name his mistakes. He closes his eyes and feels like he should facepalm now too but he refrains. Sofiane looks even  _ more _ disappointed and slightly pitiful. Alex only starts laughing harder and manages to choke out a, 

“Bro, you’re so fucked,” and Ana hits him in the side. 

\--

\--

Eliott draws because it's the only way he feels like he can truly express himself. He’s not great at talking about things, he’s not great at putting his feelings into words, and he’s  _ really _ not great at making it to the point where other people can comprehend. So he draws, and he puts it out there  _ through  _ his drawings, and it doesn't really matter if others can or can't interpret what he’s trying to convey, because  _ he  _ knows what he’s conveying and that's all that counts. 

Tuesday morning finds him hunched over his desk in the corner of his room. He’s got about 30 minutes before he leaves for class so he spends the time with his head buried in his sketchbook. It sounds silly, but the past couple of nights his dreams have been filled with fucking  _ hedgehogs.  _ At first he couldn't understand why, but as he studied Lucas at the diner the other day; the spike of hair, the point of his nose, the way he’s just so fucking tiny, he realized that the boy was no bunny, no hamster, none of what Eliott had chose to tease him with. He was a hedgehog. And the more Eliott thought about it, the more it made sense. 

He could tell Lucas was pretty protective of his feelings and getting to know people, getting used to them. He didn’t much put himself out there if he genuinely cared about someone's opinion of him - in the short time Eliott’s known him, he’s come to these conclusions. Lucas is at first offstandish with those he wants to know, and completely carefree and confident with those he doesn't. 

At least, this is what Eliott has put together. Could be right, could be so fucking wrong and he’s just totally overanalyzing it. 

And it has nothing to do with hedgehogs that much, he just finds himself going off on little tandems inside his own head more often than not and always leading back to Lucas. 

Lucas, who Eliott’s currently drawing as the small spiky animal right now. And maybe there’s a raccoon too, and maybe they're together, and maybe everything is perfect and they’re in love in this little fiction world that their spirit animals live in, but no one has to know about that part. 

Maybe Eliott just really enjoys drawing raccoons and hedgehogs. 

\--

\--

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Youre the worst _

Eliott cackles when he reads the message. He and Lucas have gradually been texting back and forth nonstop. Sometimes they’re having a casual conversation, getting to know each other. Sometimes they’re sharing little facts and details about themselves. A lot of times they’re teasing each other about whatever they can find to do so. Lately it’s been more and more about their height difference - what with Lucas being so fucking short and small. 

Eliott sent him a meme a little bit ago, something about “how short people think they look when they’re angry vs. how they actually look” with a picture of Groot. He couldn’t just not send it. It was such a great opportunity. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ at least i can fucking fit my legs in the car when i drive, gigantour  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ You can’t even reach the gas pedal  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ PISS OFF _

_ i cant believe i told you that story _

_ i didn’t realize i could scoot the seat up okay  _

_ leave me alone  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ Sorry, can’t hear you all the way down there  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ i hate you  _

Eliott can only imagine the look on the younger boys’ face. He probably has his eyebrows furrowed, looking real angry with his lips pursed and his “cut the bullshit” face. Fuck, he’s so cute. Eliott wishes they were together right now instead of one sitting in class at his high school and the other sitting in class in his university. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ are you sure you don’t play basketball, biggy? _

He can’t help himself when he bursts out a short laugh, everyone around him shooting their heads towards him. He immediately starts to apologize for interrupting, though he can’t seem to sober himself up. His teacher raises a disapproving eyebrow and asks, “Something amusing, Demaury?” 

“No sir, I’m sorry,” he puts a hand up to cover his mouth, hiding his smile when he looks back down to his phone. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ Shut up😂 _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ IT DOESN'T FEEL SO GOOD, DOES IT _

Eliott grins, shaking his head to himself. He really should be paying attention, not allowing distractions from the high schooler. He decides to pocket his phone, try to focus on the lesson as best he can. 

It’s the longest 50 minutes of his life after that, and he’s sure that he checked the clock on the wall  _ at least  _ every minute. It felt like he was never going to get out, his professor droning on and on and fucking on about  _ God knows what.  _ Eliott doesn't even want to think about it. 

A breath of fresh air as soon as he exits the classroom, books in hand and backpack thrown over his shoulder. He runs into Sofiane exiting his as well and they walk back to the house together. Half way there and his phone pings, he pulls it out to open a picture of a--

What the fuck is that. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ is this what you’d look like bald  _

[x](https://www.google.com/search?q=hairless+raccoons&client=safari&hl=en-us&prmd=isvn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjrssT67_PiAhUlO30KHWMBA2kQ_AUoAXoECBAQAQ#imgrc=vqPAse0DCbWbpM)

Lucas sent him a picture of a hairless raccoon and he has to stop himself from chucking his cell. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ Don’t ruin this for me _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ oh no Eliott it gets worse  _

[x](https://www.google.com/search?q=hairless+raccoons&client=safari&hl=en-us&prmd=isvn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjrssT67_PiAhUlO30KHWMBA2kQ_AUoAXoECBAQAQ#imgrc=XgZukWsvLqF0GM&imgdii=gaAAX0jFOezx1M)

And it's actually quite funny, he laughs to himself and from the corner of his eye can see Sofiane glancing at him curiously but remains quiet. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ I’m blocking you  _

“You seem pretty happy recently,” his friends’ voice drags him out of the haze he’s in as he stares at his screen with the slew of cocky messages from Lucas saying,  _ “you should know by now how irresistible i am,”  _ and Eliott can only think to himself,  _ yeah, unfortunately I fucking do. _

He looks over to Sofiane, raises his eyebrows in a shrug. The other guy continues, “Are things working out with Lucille?” 

And what a way to bring his mood right back down to a damn zero. He exhales loudly and figures that if he was going to confess to anyone then it would be Sofiane. He’s more sympathetic than the others, and softer so Eliott doesn't have to worry about being teased for anything. Even though all of them know exactly what the deal is with Lucille, they all know he’s bipolar, they all know that with each passing day his feelings for her get less and less and yet it never seems to stop him from pursuing her further, only for his own selfish reasons. 

Eliott’s teeth scrape across his bottom lip and he contemplates. What comes out of his mouth is not at all what he was planning on saying and it mostly just happened, no brain to mouth coordination, apparently, “How do you think Lucas would react to me being bipolar?” The question obviously takes Sofiane by surprise, if the way his eyes widen is anything to say for it. But that makes two of them. 

“Ah,” he starts, and looks at the pavement as they walk, his hands buried in his pants pockets. “I don’t think he’d care, why?” Eliott shrugs a second time. 

He mumbles, “I don’t know,” after that they go a few more steps in silence and Eliott realizes then that he doesn’t want to stop. “Why don’t you think it’s a good idea? Me and him,” 

“It’s not that I don’t think it’s a good idea, I just-- I don’t know, Eli, it’s complicated,” 

There’s a possibility that this wasn’t as good an idea as he had originally thought. He should have seen the turn in conversation coming - the,  _ your whole mental illness ordeal tends to complicate relationships  _ and whatnot. The worst part is that he  _ knows  _ that this isn’t what Sofiane is saying, and nor would he ever imply that, but Eliott’s brain does this thing where it turns dark and puts shitty, illogical thoughts inside his head that makes him doubt everything that he knows, everyone that’s in his life, what their reasons are for being here, how long they’re here for. 

He could (not so proudly) admit that he’s the type of person who needs constant reassurance, constant reminders that he’s actually wanted around and appreciated and people care about him. But he doesn't ever voice his concerns or fears, not really, because he doesn't want to be whiny and annoying about it, and also because he doesn't think his friends would understand it.

So he stays quiet and he deals with it by himself, in his own head. And it really fucks with him and it gets him and he’s-- it turns him into a real mess more often than not. Sometimes he can fight it, tell himself it’s not true,  _ he’s loved _ and just paranoid. Don’t listen to them. Sometimes it's not so easy and it drags him down. 

Sofiane exhales, long and loud, and then puts a hand on Eliott’s arm to stop him from walking. There's a crippling feeling somewhere deep inside him - deep in the back of his mind where the infuriatingly vexing voice of the devil that sits upon his left shoulder tells him  _ that sigh  _ was tiresome and irritated, and that there Eliott was again - fucking shit up. 

“Look at me,” Sofiane demands softly, and Eliott obliges. “I know what you're thinking,”  _ No you don't.  _ “This has nothing to do with  _ that,  _ okay? Or maybe it does, but not in the way you think.” At the confused furrow of Eliott’s brow, the other guy takes another breath as he attempts to sort his thoughts with his words. “You have a tendency to get wigged out and go back to Lucille because she’s familiar and safe. And I get that, I don’t blame you for it, but I take it to mean it's because you're scared, and all that I'm saying is that if you and Lucas decided to pursue whatever it is you're wanting to pursue, just make sure you’re both actually ready for it and it’s not just going to completely bomb because neither of you have experience with a genuinely healthy relationship.”

Eliott wants to ask what that means - what unhealthy relationship Lucas was in and how bad it affected him. What kind of unhealthy was it? Emotionally? Mentally?  _ Physically?  _ Did they cheat on each other but neither one of them ever actually left? Were they constantly fighting, never getting along but never admitting it was their time? Was the guy an asshole? Did he call Lucas names? Was he unsupportive? Did he not like Lucas’ friends? Did he... _ touch  _ Lucas? Lay his hands on him? 

There are so many possibilities, so many different scenarios running through his head that he's liable to think himself into a bad mood, get angry from being so overprotective of the younger boy already. 

“I promise, Sof,” he settles with alternatively, barely above a whisper and there's so much open space around them that the sound of his words just kind of float off into the rest of the world instead of hanging around in the air of an enclosed space. “He’s different,” 

There must be something in his voice - something in the expression written across his face or the spark in his eyes that tells Sofiane he’s completely serious, he  _ really means it.  _ Because Sofiane nods and he swallows and then he puts a hand in between Eliott's shoulder blades and says, “Okay,” And maybe he doesn't understand  _ everything  _ Eliott goes through, but maybe he deserves a bit more credit. 

\--

\--

Eliott has a car, an actual vehicle, just like the majority of the other guys in his house. It’s not much, just a tiny little Honda that gets him where he needs to go. It’s his first car - a birthday present from his parents when he got his license. It’s lasted him a few years without issues, despite the actual age of it, but as he’s leaving his family home to go back to the frat, the damn thing decides it would be a good time to overheat and then just  _ not fucking work.  _

His dad told him that if he wanted to wait around a few hours that he’d work on it, see if there’s anything he can do but Eliott told him he had a lot of homework back at the house that he needed to get done and that he’d take the bus and then be back for his car the next day. 

And that's how he found himself approaching the bus stop where a strikingly familiar figure sits sprawled in the furthest seat with his legs stretched out in front of him and his head thrown back. His eyes are closed, headphones buried in his ears and he’s completely blocked out the rest of the world. Eliott takes a moment to appreciate the way the sun is shining warm on the boys’ white skin, yet his hands are still tucked into the pockets of his blue jacket. 

Eliott might think he was asleep if it weren't for the way his lips moved ever so slightly along to whatever was playing in his ears. 

The older guy nears, plopping down into the seat next to him, hard enough to rumble the rest of the chairs and it jostles Lucas’ eyes open. He jumps slightly, eyes wide before realization hits and he smiles small and sweet, sitting up and removing one of the headphones. 

Eliott flits his eyebrows once, smirk painted on his own lips. “Sup, Frodo?” 

“Lofty,” he mutters with an unimpressed eyebrow but his eyes still shine with mirth. Eliott laughs outright, tosses his head back as his entire body shakes. This fucking kid. 

“What are you listening to?” 

Lucas shrugs, fingers reaching for the tiny bud before holding it out to Eliott, who kindly takes it. He recognizes the voice immediately, unfamiliar with the song but he knows the band well enough. “ _ The Clash? _ Are you kidding me?” 

“What's wrong with it?” 

“Besides the sheer cheesiness of it all?” he teases, and when Lucas narrows his eyes Eliott can see the mock heat behind them. 

“As opposed to your supreme and entirely original taste in _fucking_ _Dubstep_?” he backfires, right off the top and Eliott can't help his chuckle. “If anyone has the right to judge here then it should be me,” 

“I told you that I only listen to that  _ sometimes  _ and you promised you wouldn't laugh at me for it,” 

Lucas only shoots him an amused grin and winks. “Come here, I think we can do better,” he tilts his head to the side and Eliott leans closer until they're sitting shoulder to shoulder, each with an earphone in and Lucas searches through his library. 

“Is this Bowie?” Eliott asks, shifting his head slightly so he can look at the one that's oh so close to his. 

There’s a fond smile that appears on Lucas’ mouth. “Yeah,” he confirms, “It’s from my favorite movie,” 

“What movie?” 

“ _ Labyrinth.  _ Have you ever seen it?” Eliott shakes his head no. The younger boy bites his lip shyly, glancing down at nothing in particular. “I have it,” he mumbles sotto voce. “At my house...if you wanted to watch it,” 

Fucking A he’s so cute. 

“Okay,” Eliott agrees simply. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,”   
  


David Bowie’s bulge was almost as distracting as sitting next to Lucas for the entirety of the film and honestly Eliott has no idea how the hell he managed to make it through it but he did. Keeping track of all the different characters, keeping track of every move Lucas made. Keeping track of every fucking weird song, and then every time Lucas would sing along to them. 

Normally when Eliott’s watching a movie he likes to be focused, he likes for his surroundings to be quiet and still and paying a-fucking-tension because it’s just decent movie etiquette. He doesn't want talking or chit chatting or little comments made that no one actually cares about. He doesn't want opinions or complaints. He just wants to be able to hear what's going on and enjoy. 

And yet somehow he found himself not minding the least bit any of the times Lucas quoted a line along with the character. And it happened  _ a lot.  _ But Eliott didn't care, the only thoughts going through his head were  _ fuck you’re so cute,  _ and maybe once or twice there was a small  _ marry me I love you _ but he isn't much keen on unpacking that right now. 

Afterwards they're facing each other on Lucas’ couch, both sitting criss cross applesauce and in a deep,  _ deep _ staring contest. Neither are winning and both are actually really horrible at it, but they're having a nice time making each other laugh. Eliott’s been making funny faces to get Lucas to crack, which it’s been working but the other boy has gotten better at keeping his composure.

That is, until Eliott upped his game and with a completely straight face, winked. It has just the effect he wanted it to, making the kid burst into a fit of giggles, red faced and bright, wide smile. “Dick,” he murmurs when he catches his breath and all Eliott can do is raise his brows once. 

He finally takes the time to glance around the place, the pictures of a baby Lucas hanging on the walls, knick knacks scattered about the shelves. Eliott stands up and stretches his arms above his head, feels the cool breeze hit the patch of stomach where his shirt rides up. He smirks when he notices the other boy eyeing the spot, and maybe he keeps his arms up longer than necessary, if just to keep that look on Lucas’ face for a second more.

“So,” he starts, and it snaps Lucas’ eyes up to his own, his face flushed but it's a nice look on him. “Are you going to give me a tour, or..” 

“Right, uh--” the high schooler rises to his feet, bringing him chest to chest with Eliott. He coughs awkwardly and Eliott can see the strain in his eyes not to glance down any further. “This way,” Lucas guides them through the apartment. “This is the kitchen, we cook here,” and then he pauses and adds, “Amongst other things,” before moving on to the next thing and not giving Eliott a chance to question what the hell that's supposed to mean. “This is our hallway, it leads us to the other rooms,” 

Eliott hums but his attention is on the photo of what appears to be a 3 or so year old Lucas, naked with chocolate all over his face and a yellow laundry hamper hanging off his head. “And this?” 

Lucas shifts his gaze to what Eliott's referring to and he quickly shoves his hand over it. “Irrelevant, let’s move on,” 

Eliott chuckles but follows anyways. There really isn't much to show but Lucas takes it upon himself to point out everything and add odd little remarks that make Eliott tilt his head in confusion but not dare ask. The last stop, and arguably the best and most interesting of them all, is the boys’ room. 

“I sleep here,” Lucas says when they step in, “And also amongst other things too,” Eliott hastily switches his eyes over to see Lucas smiling mischievously yet completely innocent as well and Eliott wonders how the hell it’s possible. 

There are clothes strewn all over the floor, his bed is unmade and there’s the occasional dirty dish but it’s all so undoubtedly Lucas that Eliott smiles. “Ah, obviously I wasn't expecting company…” the shorter guy trails off, “It’s usually a lot cleaner than this,” Eliott cocks an eyebrow, making Lucas mutter an abashed, “Most of the time,” 

“Is this yours?” He’s talking about the acoustic guitar propped up in the corner opposite the bed. Lucas gives him a vague confirmation and then asks if Eliott can play. “My rendition of  _ Mary Had a Little Lamb _ is unlike anything you've ever heard before,” 

“Huh. Just so happens to be my favorite nursery rhyme,” 

Eliott breathes a laugh and sits down on the bed, positioning the instrument in his arms. He brushes his thumb over the chords, tries a few here and there to see if it’s tuned, and then begins the familiar strum. He doesn't plan on actually singing anything and instead make this more an instrumental thing, but when the time comes there’s not much he can do to stay quiet, turns out.

_ “I like to stick to walls, _

_ Observing conversations and lifting them when they fall,  _

_ I am a fire escape,  _

_ My spine is made of iron, my heart pumps out old red paint,”  _

He gets lost in it - more than he had anticipated or planned to do. Just closes his eyes and lets himself be taken over. He learned this song when he was younger and still in high school, he used to play it with his next door neighbor. They had joked about starting a band together, just the two of them. They even went to a few open mic nights and performed but that was before Eliott inevitably ruined everything with his fucking broken brain. 

His voice fades out and shortly after so does the guitar, and then he’s just sitting there with his fingers still in position and his eyes boring into the carpet beneath his feet. It’s the clapping that knocks him out of his spell and he looks to where the sound is coming from, eyes locking with big blue ones that are filled with nothing but absolute adoration. 

“That was amazing,” Lucas voices, slowly coming closer until they're perched right next to each other. “Really, Eliott, your voice is... beautiful,” 

He can feel his skin heating up so he breaks the eye contact to hide his face. He leans the guitar against the bed, making sure it's sturdily propped before taking his hands off of it. 

“Can’t wait to hear  _ Mary Had a Little Lamb _ though,” and Eliott's not sure if the boy sensed his uncomfortableness of being praised, or if he’s just joking, but he’s thankful all the same that Lucas said anything at all, easing the atmosphere. 

There’s a light scratch at the door and they both turn their heads towards it when a tiny ball of fluff enters the room, prancing over to Lucas. “Sauce!” He exclaims excitedly, reaching down to pick up said fluff. 

“Sauce?”  _ Sauce? _

Lucas rolls his eyes with a grin, “Sasha, but I call her Sauce,” Eliott nods his head and holds out a hand for  _ Sauce  _ to sniff. “She’s kinda shy. It took her forever to get used to Yann, and she still doesn't really go to the rest of the guys but she’s getting there. I think she likes you though,” and yeah, maybe. Eliott rubs his hand down the side of the pups head and behind her ear, and she turns to lick his wrist as he does it. He’s always been fairly great with animals. 

She jumps down from Lucas’ lap and Eliott listens to the patter of her feet as they exit, presumably off down the hall. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he ignores it, figuring it can wait until later. 

It can’t, apparently, and it rings again. He looks apologetically at Lucas as he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out the offending device.  _ Lucille.  _ Who else would it be. He hasn't really talked to her much since their breakfast date when he flipped out on her. True to her word, she gave him space, but he suspects by now she thinks she gave him enough and it’s time to start moving forward again.

He stares at the screen, at the picture of her smiling up at him as he took it. It should bring joy to him, it should make him feel a spark or a fucking flicker of  _ something  _ but it doesn't. 

“You should get that,” Lucas says, and Eliott can't quite detect the emotions in his voice so peers over at him, hoping he has better luck at reading his face but to no avail. 

“It’s okay,” the older boy responds, locking the cell and moving to put it away. 

“Eliott.” 

Lucas is stern, short. His lips are pressed into a line, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Eliott aches to wipe the harshness off of his face. “Lucas--” and there’s the damn phone again. “Fucking A,” he mutters and puts it up to his ear. “Hello?” 

_ “Eliott, hey. I was starting to worry,” _

“I’m in the middle of something,” he watches Lucas let out a breath and stand up before ambling out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Eliott's helpless. He wants to say something, ask him to come back because his side that Lucas was previously pressed into is now cold. He wants to tug Lucas’ hand until the boy is lying with him, next to each other and warm. Just the two of them. But he can't. 

_ “Oh, well is everything okay?” _

“Everything is great, Lucille,” 

_ “Are you sure? I haven't really--”  _

“Look I'm really busy right now. Can I call you back?” He can tell it takes her by surprise. Silence follows and she stutters, 

_ “Ah, y-yeah, I guess so. I love you,” _

Eliott bites his lip, his heart stings. He hates himself. “Yeah, you too,” and he hangs up. Taking a few moments to breathe, to calm himself, to get his heart rate back down, and then he can't wait any longer to find Lucas. 

It doesn't take long - he’s sitting on the couch and playing on his phone. He looks up when Eliott enters but doesn't say anything, just sends him a forced smile. Less bright than his regular  _ Lucas Smile _ that makes Eliott want to cheer with love and excitement every time he’s blessed by it. 

“Hi,” Eliott speaks as he sits down on the sofa. He can't stand to be so far away but he isn't too close. He still gives Lucas enough room to not feel pressured or suffocated. 

“Hi...is Lucille okay?” 

Eliott blinks. “Uh, yeah, she’s--fine,” 

“That's good. It’s cool you two are still-- you know, together..” 

“You can't say that,” 

Lucas’ eyes roam over Eliott’s face. “Why not?” 

“ _ Because.”  _ It’s all he’s able to come up with, every other thought in his brain is just a jumbled mess and he knows for a fact he won't be able to get it out in a way that doesn’t make him seem like an absolute idiot. 

Unfortunately and understandably, it isn’t enough to suffice the younger boy. “....Okay.” he eventually says, and everything about him is  _ screaming  _ that it’s not. “Ah..my mom should probably be home soon, so..” 

Eliott feels like he’s going to cry. There’s a lump in his throat, his stomach is swarming in fucking butterflies but it’s the bad ones. The ones that tell him to find a trashcan before he makes a mess. He feels uneasy. 

“Right, of course, um—“ he looks around, searching for something, anything  to say. Something to change all of this and make things back to how they have been. The lingering looks, the lighthearted teasing, the yearning for each other. Only, it wouldn’t be yearning anymore, they’d just have each other and they’d be fullfilled and satisfied and happy. “Right.” 

His footsteps are heavy as he gathers his things. His head hangs low, his limbs weigh more than they ever have and it slows him down, makes him feel weak. He assumes he’s mirroring a scolded dog rather well, what with his ears down and his tail tucked between his legs. He stops with his hand on the doorknob and he turns around,  _ still _ searching for words that would make this all better and erase the last 15 minutes. 

“So, I’ll see you?” 

Lucas nods, stays quiet. Eliott nods too and makes to move out, but just as he crosses the threshold he freezes at the call of his name. When he looks, Lucas is hesitant. His fingers are twiddiling nervously as he chews at his lip. “Um, I’m having a party here tomorrow night. For GSA. You should come,” 

Eliott tries not to come off as too eager when he answers, “Yes, of course.” because it just feels  _ so fucking good  _ to know Lucas still wants him around. Lucas doesn’t hate him. 

“Okay,” other boy parts his lips in a tiny smile, “Cool,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When i get home the first thing i do is take my dog out. lucas was just really distracted okay.


	7. It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******** TW's for :   
> \- vaguely mentioned homophobia??? I think?? better safe than sorry. it's brief and towards the beginning   
> \- some dumb shit being said about MI's. it's around the middle.  
> \- mentions of drug addiction and the effects it can have on those around it.  
> \- past abuse. 
> 
> the last two warnings are not so brief, considering we're delving into Lucas' last relationship a bit as he recalls some pretty not great things that happened to him. It's towards the end - the last part of the chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading omg I love all of you 
> 
> title comes from ---- surprise, another Dr. Dog song :) It.

The bad thing about the party is the fact that Daphne demanded she come over an hour before it was supposed to start so that she could “help set things up” which basically just meant she was going to cover his entire apartment in nothing but rainbows. 

Well, rainbows and other colors as well. Lucas had no idea where she got so much merch, but here she was, setting out cups with pink, yellow and blue. Plates with black, grey, white and purple. Napkins of pink, white and blue. She had lesbian flags on the walls, bi strings of confetti. There were yellow balloons, and white and purple and black, too. She hung huge GSA letters on the wall in front of the door in rainbow. 

She had thought of everything, so much more than Lucas could even begin to go about himself. There were scattered around things, decorations or themed food/drinks for everyone. He had to hand it to her - even though he’s not huge on his place being invaded with so much  _ color,  _ it looked amazing in here. 

The whole reason she started this club was for people to feel safe, and included, and accepted. To recognize that they weren’t alone and there  _ were actually  _ people out there like them. To know it was okay to feel confused about things, to not be comfortable enough to make a label for yourself. It was okay if you didn’t fit in  _ out there,  _ because there was always going to be a place for you  _ in here.  _ You have friends and people who care about you within the community, within the club. You can be yourself here and not have to worry about the hate, or the judgement, or the disappointment. You are loved, and welcome, and supported. You are  _ valid.  _

Lucas thinks she’s done a pretty good job at getting that point across. Even if it hasn’t always been easy, and even if there are still people out there unfortunately who haven’t gotten to that place yet. There are people she  _ has  _ reached, people who have helped reach others. 

It’s a good thing she’s created. Her and Alexia both. Lucas is immensely proud to be apart of it, proud to be able to call himself their friend. Call them  _ his  _ friends. 

It’s about 20h when people really start to arrive. Thought it’s Lucas’ place, it’s Daphne who’s hosting. And she greets people at the door, every single person who comes in. Those she knows, those she doesn’t. People who are regular attenders of the club, people who are not. Even people who Lucas is sure have never came at all. They’re here now, mingling and getting to know others. 

There’s alcohol, there’s food, there’s soda. And Lucas is sure that if you ask around to the right people, there might be a little green as well. 

He pulled out his phone to change the song - his phone is connected to the speaker and he thinks he’s put together a pretty groovy playlist for the night but he has  _ no idea  _ how this song got on there so he skips it. There’s a text from his mother that pops up on his screen, asking if he’s okay or if he needs anything. He responds he’s great, just hanging out with the guys. 

His mother is out for the night, staying with her  _ boyfriend, Gilles.  _ Lucas hates the man with a passion. He’s a pompous asshole who thinks he’s superior to everyone else, always trying to start arguments for the sheer purpose of embarrassing the other person  _ because he can.  _ And the worst part is that any time it happens with Lucas, he can hardly even fucking defend himself without risking upsetting his mother, which he has no intenion of doing,  _ ever.  _ So he always ends up biting his tongue, keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself and just taking it all in because it’s easier to tame Lucas than it is Gilles. It’s easier to say,  _ “Son, let it go,”  _ than it is,  _ “Gilles, stop speaking to him like that,”  _

And he’s seemingly made it his entire life’s mission to make sure to disagree with  _ anything  _ Lucas says about  _ whatever  _ topic. Music? Not safe. Politics? Absolutely not. Literally anything involving LGBTQ+? A fucking war zone. It’s where they clash the most. It’s the only time Lucas really can’t allow himself to listen to the ignorance and intolerance for any longer. It’s the only thing he really gets upset about to the point where he has to leave to cool down. It’s the thing Gilles  _ knows  _ he so much as thinks a fucking negative thought about and he finds himself in a  _ very  _ heated discussion with an 18 year old. 

So yeah, the dude’s a fucking bigotted prick.  _ But he’s not homophobic - he knows gay people.  _

Lucas wonders perhaps if his mother knew her son was, in fact, gay, she wouldn’t allow her boyfriend of, he doesn’t know how many years now, say the type of shit around him that he does. Or maybe it wouldn’t be any different at all. Because sometimes Lucas thinks,  _ she has to know.  _ She has to, right? Or at the very least question it? He knows that he isn’t the best at hiding it at times, he knows that she had to have caught him gawking at dudes while at the grocery store before. Maybe she’s in denial. Maybe she’s oblivious. Maybe she does know and is waiting on him to say something to her first. 

But even then, there are times when Lucas can mention something about Pride, or tell a story about something funny that happened with his friends during GSA, or an especially magical thing at a meeting that really touched him and he wanted to share it with his mother. And she can say shit like,  _ “I just don't understand your infatuation with it,”  _ or a condescending,  _ “Is there something you need to tell us?”  _ And then all the hope Lucas had built up, all the courage and strength he had gained to possibly maybe come clean, it all vanishes. Away. Gone. After that he can't help but to think to himself,  _ they’ll never understand.  _ She’ll _ never understand.  _

It’s an incredibly depressing topic to permit his thoughts to stray to on such a cheerful night. He pockets his phone, mentally placing himself back into the party where he’s currently standing in the middle of the floor, lost in a throng of people. He’s more present than he was mere moments ago, and that's why he supposes he’s just now hearing the beautiful sound that is Eliott Demaury’s laughter. 

It doesn't take long to find him, the older boy being like a fucking magnet to all of Lucas’ senses. There’s gotta be 50 people inside his place right now, and over all the chatter and the music and the clinking of bottles, his laugh is heard over all of it - the loudest thing in here, music to Lucas’ ears. And even easier than it is to hear him, Lucas spots him standing in the kitchen with Sofiane and-- oh, fuck.  _ Fuck!  _

Basile and his loud ass mouth have already found him, trapped him in a conversation and most likely sharing things that Lucas is almost positive Eliott doesn't want to hear. And Lucas almost panics, just for a short second that Baz  _ and Arthur both  _ are standing there and talking and their lips are fucking moving and  _ who knows what  _ they could be saying, but then he realizes: he never showed them a picture of Eliott. He’s gushed about him and gossiped and he’s went on and on and on like a fucking school girl, but he’s never once blessed them with Eliott's face. Or any other part of him. 

He's in the clear. 

That is until Eliott introduces himself and they already know Sofiane and just the fact that they're there  _ together,  _ shit. Shit. Basile might not be smart enough to connect the dots but Arthur certainly is and that's why Lucas has to get over there pronto. 

He can hear it now - the ridiculously suave and entirely effortless, “I’m Eliott,” that releases itself from his mouth. And he does the thing with his eyes - the slight squint matched with the impossibly subtle upturn of his lips. 

The highschooler arrives just as realisation hits, and he hopes he doesn't look too eager, too breathless from rushing over so hastily. 

“Lulu!” Arthur greets happily, mirth laced all throughout his fucking eyes. Lucas can see the beginnings of hell right now. This is it. “You said Eliott was handsome but you didn't say he looked like  _ this,” _

Lucas promptly avoids glancing over to the tallest guy or, hell, even Sofiane too because that would be an absolute nightmare. And he knows for a fact that fucking  _ cocky ass Eliott  _ is going to look all too damn glad to hear that. 

“I didn't say  _ anything _ about Eliott,” he spits through his teeth and tries his damndest to convey how  _ dead  _ his friends are through how hard he’s scowling. 

“Are you sure? Because I recall hearing something about the blue of his eyes? What do you think, Baz?” 

Basile puts a finger up to his chin in mock contemplation. “No, I’m pretty sure it was more about how chiseled his cheekbones were,” 

Fucking A, Lucas is going to go on a damn murdering spree. 

Out of his peripheral, he can see the cock of Eliott’s eyebrow and that smug fucking smirk plastered on his lips. “Is that s--” is all he can get out before Lucas is shoving his pointer in his face and all but growling, 

“ _ No,”  _ he turns back to the boys and is shooting damn fire through his eyes, that's how heated his glare is. “You two are idiots,” 

“I don't know,” Eliott voices, “I quite like them,” 

“I don't  _ care, _ ” he grabs the older boys’ hand to pull him away before spitting out a harsh, “ _ You’re  _ not allowed to talk to him anymore,” to Dumb and Dumber and exiting. He drags Eliott all the way to the other side of the apartment before throwing them both down onto the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“If your friends are going to throw you under the bus like that everytime I’m around then maybe I should come more often,” 

“It won't matter, they’ll be dead by the end of the night anyways,” 

Eliott breathes a giggle, successfully melting Lucas’ heart. It’s becoming increasingly more difficult to distance himself from the older boy because he’s  _ so fucking alluring.  _ Lucas can't keep himself away even if he tried to. Which he has, and it didn't work out  _ at all  _ and that's why he finds himself in the types of situations he’s in right now. He gave up on trying to stop it - the constant pull that he feels anytime they're around each other, and even when they're not. He craves the attention of Eliott, he craves his presence and his everything else about him. 

And  _ fuck,  _ when they’re together everything is so natural. Lucas feels so free and open and  _ himself,  _ and it's not like he doesn't feel that way around everyone else, but it’s so different with Eliott. It's amazing with Eliott. 

They’re just friends right now, nothing else (if you don't look past the surface) and it's  _ great.  _ If it’s this insane now, Lucas can only imagine how he’d feel once he gets to touch, and kiss, and hold. Once he gets to fall asleep and wake up next to. Come home to. Study different things but be in the same room. 

God, he gets overwhelmed thinking about it. He gets ahead of himself, gets lost in a dream, gets lost in  _ hope.  _

He went to bed last night with Eliott the only thing on his mind. It’s no different than any other night, but yesterday  _ was so good.  _ Just the two of them, no interruptions, no offending presences of the rest of their friends. It was just them.

Until fucking Lucille called and Lucas was forced back into reality that,  _ oh yeah,  _ that's a thing.  _ Eliott has a girlfriend _ . And despite what Lucas feels when they're together,  _ she's the one  _ who gets to experience it all. The sleeping and the kissing and the cuddling and the waking up next to. It’s her, not him. 

It’s a real harsh slap in the face whenever it comes to mind. And he tells himself over and over again,  _ don't let yourself slip.  _ Don't get distracted, don't get lost in the charm and the want and need. Don't let it take you over. Stick your ground, hold yourself back. 

And he’s been doing such a grand fucking job at it but then with just  _ one  _ smile, or  _ one  _ adorable chuckle, or  _ one  _ raise of the eyebrows and he’s done for. 

It's harder and harder to not give in and say,  _ fuck Lucille.  _

“I’d like to hear more about how chiseled you think my cheekbones are, if you don't mind.” 

Lucas breaks down in laughter, tired of fighting the force and acting like Eliott isn't everything he’s ever wanted. “Fuck off,” he grumbles half-heartedly, nudging his friends’ side with his elbow. “Those words never came out of my mouth,” 

“I think you're lying,” Eliott counters, narrowing his eyes like he loves to do just to get a fucking reaction out of Lucas. 

“I think you're full of yourself,” 

“I think you’re beautiful,” 

Damn it.  _ Damn it,  _ damn it. They're nowhere near the right place to be having this discussion and Lucas is way out of the correct headspace to be hearing those words come from Eliott’s mouth and  _ so bluntly.  _ Without hesitation. 

“Fuck, Eliott,” he breathes and bows his head. “You can't just say shit like that,” 

“Why not.” 

“Because you have a  _ girlfriend! _ ” 

“What if I don't want a girlfriend anymore? What if I only wanted you?” And nope, nope. No way. Lucas stares at him, not really in shock but with his mouth slightly agape nonetheless. There’s not really any expression in the rest of his features, and after a few seconds of just that, he finally yanks himself back into motion and closes.

Murmuring, “I need a fucking drink,” and he’s gone without any further ado. 

 

He’s not drunk. He wishes he were drunk but unfortunately he’s not. At the last minute he decided maybe it was best to just get  _ borderline tipsy  _ and then call it quits. That way he’s still conscious enough to not be an idiot (anymore than he already is sober) but he can still at least take his mind off of things, even if just a little. 

He ventured out on the deck for some fresh air, and that's where he finds Emma and Yann. They seem to look okay, but Lucas can never tell whether they're at a good point in their relationship or back to the bad. They’re just standing next to each other, leaning against the railing. He decides to take a chance. “Hello, lovebirds,” he announces himself cheerfully, a wide grin spread across his face. They both turn to look at him, chuckling when they take him in. “How are we doing?” 

Yann smiles, “Having a good night, Lu?” 

“Can't complain,” he says cooly, shrugging, and then a bit earnest he admits, “I’ve kinda just been staring at Eliott all night but what's new?” 

Yann makes a face like he was just expecting that answer, and Emma asks, “Who’s Eliott?” 

Her boyfriend glances at her quizzically and there's nothing malice in his tone when he responds, “I’ve told you about him before, the guy Lucas is obsessed with?” 

The shorter boy mutters, “I’m not obsessed with him,” but he doesn't think either of them are listening to him. Emma furrows her eyebrows, 

“No you haven't, I think I would remember hearing about Lucas’ new crush,” 

“It’s  _ not  _ a crush,” he grumbles under his breath and still, no one's listening. It's definitely a crush though, so it doesn't matter either way.

Lucas eyes Yann, can see the way the frustration is building up, and right as the guy opens his mouth to retort, Lucas jumps in loudly with, “ _ Eliott _ goes to the university.” He’s finally got their attention, as both of them turn to look at him and he grins again, innocently. He doesn't want them to fight tonight, he doesn't want to  _ witness  _ them fighting tonight. So he intervened, and if that means that the only way he could do that is talk about Eliott, then so be it. Everyone has sacrifices they need to make. 

“..And also I might be slightly in love with him,” he adds and then giggles to himself because maybe he’s more tipsy than he had originally thought. He sees Emma laugh too, and she steps past him with a pat on his shoulder.

“I’m going to get you some water,” 

He nods at her in thanks as he nears Yann, sidling up next to him at the railing. They both look off over the view, and it's not Lucas’ first time seeing this while partially intoxicated, but for some reason it seems completely different than it does when he’s sober. The buildings are taller, the lights are a lot brighter. Everything underneath them seems way smaller. It’s nice though, the scene. 

“So Eliott came, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas confirms, and draws out the word as he stares at the top of a building for no particular reason. “I invited him,” 

He hears his friend let out a breathy chuckle and it’s nothing but light hearted teasing when he inquires, “And you're in love with him now, too?” 

Lucas releases a joking whine, throwing his head on Yann’s shoulder. “I’m so fucking screwed,” The taller boys’ hand immediately comes to Lucas’ back, rubbing a long the nape of his neck comfortingly. 

“You didn't really stand a chance anyways,” 

“I  _ know, _ ” Lucas cries, “Fucking A,” After several moments of quiet and just watching the city, “What’s happening with you and Emma?” 

Yann lets out a sigh. “I don't know, man. Everything is so stressful all the time, nothing's really enjoyable anymore, you know? She yells at me about  _ everything,”  _

“Maybe you just need time apart. Take a break from each other,” 

“Yeah, maybe, dude, I don't know,” About that time Emma comes back cursing to herself with a bottle of water in her hands. She tosses it to Lucas without really thinking about it and it’s a wonder how the damn thing didn't fly off the side of the building. 

“Fuck, I think I found Eliott,” 

Lucas raises his eyebrow in question as he screws the cap off and takes a sip. It's refreshing - the first thing going down his throat that doesn't make it burn with alcohol. 

“He’s being ravished by all the first years,” 

That causes an eyeroll and Lucas excuses himself. He tilts his head at Yann and then kisses Emma on the cheek. He finds Eliott backed into a corner and, just like Emma had said, surrounded by youngsters. When he catches Lucas’ eye he pleads for help, and the other boy has half a mind to just sit by and watch in amusement but then eventually concludes this is just too painful to see and too embarrassing for everyone else for it to go on any longer. 

“Excuse me, excuse me,” he nudges his way by and ignores all the glares he’s getting. “Hate to break up the party but, Eliott? Uh, can I borrow you real quick?” 

“Sure, yes, absolutely,” and they're out of there before anyone knew what was happening. Somehow they ended up back on the couch, dangerously close to being curled up with each other but not quite yet. Their arms are aligned, pressed as one, and Lucas aches to reach out for more. 

“Um...are you having a good time?” 

Eliott smiles sweetly, and even through the dim lighting Lucas can see the way blue eyes flicker down to his own lips. “I am,” 

“That-- that's nice,” fuck why does he have to be so damn awkward. Alcohol’s supposed to have the opposite effect, it's supposed to be able to make him communicate like an actual person and not just stutter over his words while his face tints hot pink. 

“Are you?” 

Lucas gulps, “Guess it could be better,” and he  _ feels  _ like he’s definitely tilting forward just a bit, or maybe it's Eliott, but either way he doesn't care. He’s just letting it happen. 

“Oh, yeah? How so?”

See, Lucas has no idea what to reply here without absolutely throwing himself at the boy in front of him. That's why, when they’re interrupted by the conversation some random girls are having next to them, he’s thankful for it. However, when he actually  _ hears  _ the conversation, he realizes how not so fortunate he or Eliott are by being forced to listen to this  _ bullshit.  _ His skin prickles, he can feel his cheeks heating up with anger. 

It’s not his business, really, but he can't  _ stand  _ to hear people say such fucking ignorant things when they have no idea what they're talking about. 

It’s a blonde girl and a brunette, and Lucas doesn't have the first clue as to who they're referring, or even who either of them are, but he finds that it really doesn't matter all that much. 

“You realize that she’s like actually crazy, right? Like, certified bipolar,” the brunette gossips animatedly, and the blonde looks shocked. 

“No way,” 

“Yeah, she flipped out on me once in class. Like, she was totally fine and then I asked her for a pencil and she fucking snapped, oh my God. Lisa says it's not the first time that's happened, either,” 

“What the fuck??? Bitch?? That's no excuse to be so rude,” 

“I know, right? Fucking crazy,” 

Lucas doesn't notice how hard he’s clenching his teeth, how tight he’s squinting his eyes. His heart is racing a mile a minute, ire filling his entire body, and there's a lump in his throat. He’s not bipolar. Nor does he have any other sort of mental illness, but when he was younger he used to be best friends with his cousin. His cousin, who was diagnosed with BD when he was 9. There had been signs, apparently, but no one had suspected anything until his first episode. Lucas doesn't remember much of what happened, but he knows it wasn't a fun time. He does remember though how in the years that passed after that, the struggle it was for his cousin. The way he hated taking his pills because he didn't like the way they made him feel. The way he refused to (and still does) acknowledge the fact that he has an MI at all. He's ashamed by it, he’s embarrassed, and with the fucking stigma of Bipolarity and Mental Illnesses in general, no matter what they may be, “normal” people, those without it, those who live their life without these issues,  _ like these damn girls,  _ they make you think that there  _ is _ something to be ashamed about, like you should be embarrassed, you should feel crazy. That's not the case. 

Bipolarity doesn't mean you're crazy. Anxiety doesn't mean you're overreacting. Addiction doesn't mean you're worthless. There's nothing wrong with you that makes your life any less significant than the next person. 

But, thinking back on it, had Lucas not been so set on making these girls realize how wrong everything they're saying is, he might have noticed the way Eliott had frozen in his spot. How the blood had dripped from his head, making his skin pale white. How he dug his fingers into his leg and gripped tight.

Lucas didn't notice any of that as he leaned forward and spat, “Excuse me, but do you know how dumb you sound? Just because someone's mood changes quickly doesn't mean they're bipolar. Did you ever think to consider maybe she was having a bad day? Or she just didn't like you and that's the reason for such a foul reaction? You shouldn't go around calling people crazy just because you don't like how they treated you. It’s really shitty, and there's nothing wrong with her even if she is bipolar.” 

And when he's done the girls are clearly speechless. They stare at him, startled, before getting up and leaving, and Lucas feels only a small amount of satisfaction at that. It’s gone, though, as soon as he turns and sees the look on Eliott’s face. It’s... unreadable. He has no idea what the other boy is thinking as his eyes are locked into Lucas’. 

“Eliott?” The younger voices. “Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m--” he clears his throat and swallows. “I’m good, um, is there-- can I use your bathroom?” 

Lucas eyes him cautiously but points a finger nonetheless. “Are you sure you're okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,”

 

It’s at least 20 minutes before he sees Eliott again. Lucas doesn't know where he disappeared off to, if he’s still in the bathroom or what, but he hasn't been spotted since he rushed away.

Lucas worries if maybe he said something wrong. Obviously something happened, obviously it has something to do with what the girls said, and obviously it affected Eliott a great fucking deal. 

The high schooler had slipped into the kitchen to get some more water when he happened to glance up and see Eliott coming out of the hallway. He’s looking around for someone, and there’s a nagging feeling in the back of Lucas’ mind that says maybe it's  _ him  _ Eliott’s searching for. He wants to be, but there's a very high possibility that he's looking for Sofiane to perhaps tell him he’s ready to go. 

He doesn't mean to stare long, honestly he just gets lost in thought, but soon their eyes connect and then Eliott’s fighting the crowd to approach. The easy smile he gets tugs at the strings attached to his heart - a gentle reminder of their presence; each hooked to a part of Eliott and every move he makes, every smile, every wink, every utter of words, it pulls. And Lucas falls deeper and deeper and deeper. 

“Hi,” he whispers. They're standing inches away from each other, and Lucas fails to suppress the slip of his gaze down to the other’s mouth. “Um, do you want to get out of here?” 

Eliott breathes a laugh, “Where’d you have in mind?”

 

Lucas doesn't have a favorite place in the city. He likes to be everywhere, see everything. But one he favors in particular is the roof at the top of his building. It’s...breathtaking. When he’s up there he can finally just  _ be.  _ His mom and her horrible boyfriend doesn’t exist, the weight of his homosexuality and not being out to his family doesn’t exist. And tonight, no one else exists. Just Lucas and Eliott. 

That’s why Lucas brings him up there, shares it with him. Because he feels safe here, and he wanted Eliott to feel safe too. He wanted Eliott’s problems and troublesome thoughts to not exist. He wanted Eliott to feel like he can just  _ be,  _ too. 

It’s still a fairly chilly night, and they haven’t even been out for more than 5 minutes before their noses start to redden and the tips of their fingers are no longer capable of feeling. Luckily, he’s got one of his thousands of scarves that everyone seems to think he just can’t live without, and he wraps it tight around his neck to keep him warm. 

Until he looks at Eliott and sees that he’s only wearing the fucking hoodie again and nothing else. “Where’s your jacket?”

The older guy shrugs, “I didn’t bring it,” 

“It’s still downstairs or you didn't bring it at all?” 

“It wasn't cold enough for it when I left the house..” 

Lucas sighs like it's the worst thing in the world, but secretly he’s loving it. And yet still, he acts like it's a chore to unravel the fabric from his neck and motion for the taller to bend down. Eliott rolls his eyes, “Lucas, I’m fine, I don't need that,” 

“I don't care, come here,” The reluctant huff of breath he receives in return is fucking adorable, and it’s all he can do to hold back his smile. He lifts the scarf over Eliott’s head, wraps it a few times and then ties it, and steps back to appreciate the view. “See? You look good with it,” 

Eliott snorts, “I look like you,” and Lucas cocks his eyebrow in challenge. “What's wrong with looking like me?” 

A smirk creeps across Eliott’s features and it's such a contrast from the fear covering them over half an hour ago. This is what Lucas wants to see more of - happy Eliott. 

“Nothing, obviously. Haven't you seen yourself?” 

It makes Lucas turn pink. Even though he was expecting such an answer, it still sparks something deep within him that he’s never felt before. “You're not so bad either,” he replies quietly as he bites his lip. 

He isn't sure how long they stay out there after that, chatting about nothing too incredibly important. Lucas is letting Eliott lead the conversations, pick the topics. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about what happened earlier, maybe he just wants to take his mind off it. Lucas is here for that, and he’s here for when Eliott does want to open up.  _ If  _ he does. 

It’s after a number of silent minutes where neither of them spoke and the only sound heard was their breathing and the occasional car, even from so far up, when Lucas feels a ping in his pockets and reaches for his phone. 

It’s a random number, not one he recognizes but when he reads the text his stomach drops and his mouth fills with a certain bitterness he hasn't experienced in months now.

_ hey, i know it’s been a while but can you call me? i’m in trouble Lucas i need your help.  _

He knows immediately who it is, and without thinking he deletes it. Locks his phone and shoves it back into his pants. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Lucas glances up at the voice, “Yeah, just got a wrong number from someone,” 

Eliott hums and they're quiet for a few more, until his fingers start tapping restlessly on the concrete wall they're leaning on and Lucas desperately wants to lay his own hand over Eliott’s to make it stop. The older boy peers over tentatively and when he asks, “Lucas?” the high schooler thinks maybe this is it. Maybe this is where he opens up. But then it’s followed by, “What happened between you and your ex?” 

Truthfully Lucas doesn't know how Eliott does it - it’s like he’s reading his mind or he’s psychic or  _ something _ , but it’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of Eliott's mouth. In fact, it's the  _ last  _ thing he would have expected. And right  _ at this time. _

“Uh-- my ex?” Eliott nods. “I mean-- I don't know, it’s kind of a long story, why?” 

The other guy flips his shoulders. “I've just heard the guys bring it up a few times. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it,” 

“It’s not that, it just-- it took me by surprise is all, and it’s a little bit of an odd time to bring it up,”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been wanting to ask you about it for a few days now,” 

Lucas stares contemplatively. It’s not something he talks about all that often, and it’s not like it's hard for him to do, he’d just rather forget about it and move on. Which proves hard to do when he still gets texts/calls every now and then asking for help, or for money, or for a bail out of jail. It’s tiring, and Lucas never responds because he knows better than to, but it’s still exhausting. Never ending. 

“He was an addict,” he admits only barely above a whisper. “ _ Is  _ an addict, I guess. I’m assuming he’s still using,” Eliott doesn't say anything, just watches and let's Lucas continue when he wants. There's a part of him that wishes the older would interrupt, would say something because Lucas has no idea where he’s going with this. He has no idea how much he wants to share, how much he  _ can  _ share without conjuring up the same feelings he always gets when he thinks too much about it. It’s painful, and he always ends up getting frustrated with himself for feeling like he didn't do enough. He feels guilty for ignoring the messages, he catches himself feeling guilty for leaving in the first place. And no matter how many times he tells himself that if was for his own good, for  _ both of their good,  _ there's a twinge inside him. A voice telling him he could have done better, tried harder. 

“I haven't seen him in a few months. He got--  _ violent,  _ towards the end, so I left, and..he didn't take it well. That's how I met the guys,” 

“Violent how?” 

Lucas purses his lips. “He lost his temper a few times. I-- pissed him off, agged it on when I knew that he wasn't in the right frame of mind,” 

Eliott's voice comes out cold and shaky. It sends a ripple of chills down Lucas’ spine. “What did he do to you?” 

The first time it happened was on Christmas a year ago. James had asked Lucas for money, Lucas told him no, it pissed him off. Lucas then told him to fuck off, and next thing he knows he’s being thrown to the ground in a headlock with James’ voice in his ear threatening,  _ “I will fucking break your neck right here if you ever talk to me like that again,”  _

It should have ended there. Lucas should have left then. He didn't. 

The second time it happened Lucas had been cleaning and he threw away a ball of copper that James used to smoke with. Lucas knew what it would do, he knew how badly it would set him off because they had both already been stressed about different things but in all honesty, Lucas hasn't planned on being home the same time James realized his shit was missing. 

They went back and forth yelling at each other:  _ “Where is it?” “I threw it away!”  _ Lucas can't recall much but he knows the last words out of his mouth before he was being slammed against the wall were,  _ “It's not my fault you're a fucking crackhead,”  _ and then he was head-butted in the cheek with a swollen, angry, purple bruise that yelled back at him every time he looked in the mirror for an entire week until it finally faded. 

Truth be told, it was his fault for throwing away something he knew he shouldn't have. And he  _ definitely _ shouldn't have stooped so low as to throw James’ addiction back in his face. Like Lucas was in any way better than him. He wasn't. It wasn't fair. 

The third time it happened James was drunk and pissed off about something that had happened at work. Lucas can't even remember - the thing that had set him off had been so fucking trivial but it was enough, apparently. One minute Lucas was trying to calm the guy down, the next he was hiding the car keys. James was  _ enraged,  _ and he wanted to go, he wanted to tell his co-workers a piece of his mind. But Lucas told him no, he wasn't driving while as drunk as he was. 

So he grabbed the keys before James could, which only resorted to be tackled onto the ground, James straddling him as he pried the keys out of Lucas’ hand, fingers pressed into his throat. He resisted for as long as he could, he kept a good hold on the keys but eventually fear got the best of him and he let go, gave up. 

It was a miracle from God that the car had run out of gas on James’ way there and he had to pull over before he could  _ really  _ hurt someone. 

The fourth time was when Lucas told him they were done - he wasn't doing it anymore. It's the only time James ever actually struck him. It’s too much for Lucas to go into right now. He can't. 

He doesn't tell Eliott any of this, and instead settles with a shrug, “Just pushed me around a few times. Nothing too extreme. I was lucky,” 

The older boy shakes his head furiously. “That doesn't make you lucky, Lucas, you shouldn't have had to be in that situation in the first place, fuck,”

“I had multiple opportunities to get out. I just didn't take them.” He knows he should have, he knows he could have avoided a lot. But he was sticking out hope. He wanted to help. It isn't easy watching someone you love turn less and less themselves with each passing day until one day you just don't recognize them anymore. They're gone.

Maybe that's why he still attempts to defend James, even to this day. “And-- it was only when he was coming down off of it and withdrawing because he didn't have the money to get more, and I wouldn't lend him anything. I knew he was easily agitated, I should have just let shit go instead of trying to fight him on it,” 

Eliott swivels around to him, his face hard yet there's so much emotion. He’s upset, he’s angry, he  _ really  _ wants Lucas to hear him. “None of that was your fault, okay? You didn't ask for it, you didn't go into that fucking relationship knowing it was going to turn into  _ that.  _ No one deserves to get treated that way, Lucas. He could have seriously hurt you!"

“Eliott, it’s fine, alright? I’m fine now. It’s over with,” It's funny, because even with dredging all of this back up, he doesn't find himself as visibly torn up as Eliott clearly is, and Lucas feels like it's  _ him  _ who should comfort the other boy. Not the other way around. 

He reaches out a hand, placing it on Eliott’s cheek as he steps closer. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’m okay, there's nothing to worry about anymore,” 

“What if he comes back? What if he just shows up one day? What are you going to do?” 

“He’s not going to show up, Eliott, I promise you,” Of course, there's actually no way he can guarantee that, and especially not with the text messages being a thing again. Eliott doesn't need to know that though. 

There are arms wrapped around his shoulder and pulling him in before he knows what's happening. His head is tucked under Eliott's chin as he’s held close. Lucas doesn't really need to think about it when he snakes his own arms around the boys' waist and squeezes just as tight. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Lucas.” Eliott tells him. “He’ll never hurt you again, I won't let him," 

Lucas swallows, feels tears breaching his eyelids and he doesn't even bother blinking them away. He just hugs tighter, burying himself deeper into Eliott's protective grasp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo???


	8. My My My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost, i'd like to point out that I am not bipolar, nor have I ever experienced depression or any form of it. i do know people, and have done a fair amount of research on it, so i can only hope that what's depicted in this chapter (the depression part) holds at least a little bit of accuracy. if not, my sincerest apologies and please do not hesitate to point out any wrongs you feel about it, though it's really not a huge part of the chapter i don't think, but still. voice your opinions if you have them. secondly, my best friend has anxiety, and ever since we were little she would clean whenever it started to kick in, just to get her mind off of it. or if she was stressed about something. my mom also does it when she's anxious because she feels like she needs to put her energy into something other than that. and that is where the idea sprouted. 
> 
> thirdly, chapter title is troye sivan ;) 
> 
> ENJOY <333

_ This isn't working out anymore.  _

_ I think we should break up.  _

_ Neither of us are happy. _

_ We’ve grown apart - we’re too different now.  _

_ This isn't what either of us want. _

_ I’m not in love with you.  _

The last one might be too harsh, but Eliott’s putting together the things in his mind, how he’s going to do it, what to say. He doesn't want to sound like an asshole, he doesn't want some cliche shit like,  _ it’s not you, it's me.  _ Although it’s truthfully not her, it's him. 

It’s been a week since Lucas’ party; since he and Eliott stood outside for hours on end, talking and laughing and sharing things with each other; since Eliott decided he didn’t want to wait anymore - he  _ couldn’t  _ wait anymore. 

He’s been trying to gather up his whits all week to call Lucille, tell her nothing new, just what they’ve both been thinking. She has to know, right? It has to have crossed her mind that their relationship has gone to shit and they’re just not meant for each other. Not anymore. Right? Nevertheless, Eliott’s been working the past 5 days to gain the courage he needs to just send  _ one  _ text, drive  _ a few  _ miles to their set location, and then just  _ spill it.  _ Don’t beat around the bush, don’t pussyfoot around his words and delay what he’s trying to say. He just needs to come out with it. If he sounds like an ass, he sounds like an ass. But at least neither of them are tied down in a relationship where they’re unhappy and feel forced to stay with each other just because they’ve invested so many years already. 

Sofiane was right - it’s familiar, it’s safe. But Eliott also feels safe with Lucas, he feels sturdy and substantial, even, like the two of them could really be something. 

So on Thursday morning after he wakes up, there’s a newfound... _ bravery,  _ if you can call it that, and the first thing he does is grab his phone off the nightstand - reluctantly and with all of his willpower, ignoring the text from a certain high schooler - and he types out a careful, simple message to Lucille. 

**_Eliott_ **

_ Can you come by the house tonight so we can talk? _

He taps the cell in his palm and bites his lip nervously until it buzzes with a reply. 

**_Lucille_ **

_ Yeah, of course. Should I bring dinner? _

**_Eliott_ **

_ No, it’s okay  _

Fuck, why does she have to be so nice to him after everything? 

He lies back on his bed with a frustrated sigh and ponders his actions.

He hasn’t talked to Lucas about what might happen when he does break things off with Lucille. Honestly he has no idea what the other boy wants and really he’s just running on hope. He  _ feels  _ like maybe they’re on the same page, like Lucas is definitely picking up what Eliott’s been putting down. Or at least, like he  _ wants  _ to pick up but just hasn’t yet because Eliott’s also been putting down with Lucille and once he decides to quit dropping shit to her, maybe Lucas will then decide he wants to act on it and start actually picking up. 

Eliott wants Lucas to pick up  _ so bad.  _

But, what Eliott is taking into account right now is that whether or not Lucas is picking up or plain pushing away, is irrelevant. Simply because this needs to be less about Eliott pursuing a new relationship with someone he has  _ extremely deep feelings for,  _ and more about him ending a relationship with someone he has  _ no  _ feelings for. 

What’s most important is he’s unhappy, and he has been for a while. And also that Lucille is a sweet girl who in no way deserves to be strung along and kept only as some sort of back up plan for when things turn to shit for Eliott and he has no one else to go to. She deserves better than this, she deserves to be in a happy and healthy relationship where her feelings are 100% requited and they’re putting in just as much effort as she is. 

Eliott only hopes he can convey all of this to her tonight. Somehow get his point across that she  _ is  _ a great girl, and he  _ is  _ thankful for all of the bullshit she’s put up with from him, and he  _ does  _ love her but he’s not  _ in  _ love with her, as much as he  _ has  _ tried to keep it together and work it out. There was a point in their relationship where Eliott would have fought tooth and nail to keep them together. 

Unfortunately for her though, maybe it just wasn’t for the right reasons. 

—

—

He used to do this a lot when he was younger - if he had a lot on his mind, or if he was super stressed about something and constantly burdened by it, he’d clean. Just to distract himself, put all of the energy he has in overthinking shit into actually  _ doing something.  _ It would start with this random urge to wash the dishes. And though they had a dishwasher, he preferred using his hands because in a way it was therapeutic - it calmed him, made him a little grounded even. 

At first his mom would walk into the kitchen and ask, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?” because it was uncommon for her to catch her kids cleaning without explicitly being asked to. But t he more it happened, the less she questioned it. The older and more stressed he got, the less a meager sink full of dishes was to help. So he picked up other things around the house. He’d vacuum, he’d sweep (even though he thought sweeping was the devil’s gig), he’d clean the bathrooms. But those were all small, trivial things that took up maybe an hour, hour and a half of his day. And sometimes a scant hour of distractions wouldn’t do anything at all. Sometimes he needed  _ more.  _

The Bakhellal’s used to tease him, say he was always welcome at theirs because when there was nothing left to clean at his own place, he’d go to Idriss’ and tidy up his room. Lord knows he needed it. That’s partially why they thought Eliott was such a good influence on their boy - because he kept his room cleaned. They didn’t know that there was an underlying reason behind it that wasn’t just because Eliott enjoyed cleaning, or he was OCD or something. 

It was because there were so many fucking things going on inside his head that it was  _ exhausting him  _ and he never felt like he could catch a break. It was better he do something productive than wallow in his thoughts all day so he put his focus into  _ that.  _

Only thing is, once people realized what was actually happening and he didn’t just have some crazy urge to help out all the time, it became a thing. Anytime he was spot cleaning everyone immediately put their guard up - on the lookout.  _ Is Eliott okay? Did something happen? Is this the beginnings of another episode?  _

They searched for hints, signs, little tells. Eliott understood they cared about him, were just trying to make sure he was okay and that if he was about to head into some sort of episode, he would know that they were there with him, and for him. He appreciated it, like,  _ immensely.  _ He can’t even put it into words. But he also oftentimes feels suffocated by it. Like he can’t make a single move, can’t straighten up the tiniest bit without someone right on top of him, asking how he’s feeling, if he’s been taking his meds, if he’s been getting enough rest. He can’t act differently, can’t have a bad day without being questioned and hectored about  _ everything.  _

He can generally feel an episode before it hits him full force, though sometimes it takes him by surprise, but usually he knows. There’s the tiredness - the waking up with heavy eyes and having little motivation to get out of bed. Then he gets even tireder, and tireder and tireder until just opening up his eyes to the light peaking inside his room feels like too much effort. It doesn’t help that his brain is telling him,  _ it’s okay, stay here. No one’s missing you anyways.  _

There’s also the weight. The giant shadow of darkness that stays looming over his head, or perched on his shoulders, or pressing against his chest. This burden. It’s weird, because inside him he feels like something’s missing, something is  _ off  _ and he just can’t place it. He feels wrong. Then he realizes it’s  _ him.  _ He’s what’s wrong, he's the burden. And that’s when the negativity takes over, convinces him that he’s doing everyone a favor staying cooped up in his room with only a blanket for shelter. 

With the negativity comes the numbness. The loss of emotions, the loss of hope, the inability to care. He can try to think happy thoughts, try to think of memories and people and things that make him smile - anything to make him feel again. But it’s a never ending cycle, because those thoughts only bring back the friends who don’t actually want him, the family who doesn’t actually love him. Then back to the self loathing and disgust. And back to the numbness again, after that. 

And then someone knocks on his door, usually his mom or one of his friends. Lucille, too. And they ask,  _ how are you? Do you need anything?  _ And aside from the first thing forming inside his head when he hears that being a mix of,  _ what they really mean is if you’re done overreacting yet,  _ and,  _ either way they don’t really care.  _ There’s a nagging telling him that all of this is unnecessary, he’s just making life harder for everyone else feeling like they have to check on him. And he gets  _ so  _ mad at himself for putting them threw this, for forcing them to have to deal with it. 

His mom tells him,  _ I love you.  _ And Lucille says,  _ I’m here when you’re ready.  _ And everything hits him. 14 tons of weight flying straight towards him, tackling him. Guilt; anger; sadness; regret; contrite. All of it. He feels so much of it. Except, simultaneously he’s also feeling the numbness and it’s an entire fucking mess happening all at the same time. 

He’s trapped inside his own head and there’s no way out. No release. It’s an exhausting battle that never fails to take the life out of him. 

And he can’t tell if it gets less and less with time, or if he just gets better at burying it deep down so he doesn’t have to deal with it, until the next time he falls too weak to hold up the wall and then it all happens again. Either way, eventually it passes. But it’s never gone for good. 

Today, he doesn’t feel like an episode is coming. There’s not the impending heaviness that there typically is. He’s just as tired as he always is, feels the same self-deprecating thoughts as he always does. Everything feels as normal as it could be. 

He’s literally just stressed about this whole Lucille ordeal because he doesn’t know how she’s going to take it, so he could use a little distraction to take his mind off of it. That’s why he ventures downstairs a bit to tidy up the horrid fucking nightmare that is the frat house kitchen. Honestly, he doesn’t know how they don’t constantly have roaches and rats scurrying about. 

He starts with dishes just so that he can clear the counters a bit. After that he wipes everything down, sprays a healthy amount of bleach on the counters, goes over them  _ a few times  _ before moving on to the floors and -- God help him, he pulls out the damn broom. 

He’s almost done - wetting the mop so that he can start mopping - when Alex and Sofiane come in, and the first thing they do when they see him is stop dead in their tracks and raise questioning, fairly concerned eyebrows at him. Eliott only glances up at them, tilts his head in a greet and then turns back to his task. Alex sounds a little more apprehensive than Eliott really cares for when he asks, “You good, bro?” 

And he tries his best to be reassuring, to not leave any room for doubt because there truly doesn’t need to be. “Yeah, just figured someone needed to do it if no one else was,” He doesn’t miss the way his two friends glance at each other, and he knows they don’t mean anything by it but it doesn’t stop the irking feeling that starts inside his stomach. 

“Uh-- okay, well, if you need anything or-- you know,” Alex clears his throat, “Let us know,” 

He finally stops with the mop, pauses to set it up right and lean his head on the top of it. He plasters on an amused grin. “Got it,” he nods, “Thank you,” 

“Yeah, of course,” 

He really doesn’t need this to be the type of thing that they’re seemingly trying to make it. 

They eye him curiously, maybe even a little cautiously for a couple more moments before walking away, Eliott’s assuming they’re heading back up to their room. He goes back to cleaning. 

It’s a little later when he’s heading to his own, leisurely making his way through the house while texting Lucas, and he smiles down at his phone. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ hey Eliott  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ Lucas. _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ did you hear about that italian chef who died _

**_srodulv_ **

_ No, what happened? _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ he pasta-way :( _

**_srodulv_ **

_ ….. _

_ You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that? _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ ;) _

Eliott can’t help but to laugh out loud, throwing his head back as he climbs the stairs. How the fuck did he manage to get himself tangled up with such an incredibly large dork. 

He doesn’t realize he’s passing Alex and Sofiane’s room until the latter calls out his name when he does. He backtracks, peeking his head in. His friend is standing at his bed, folding his laundry and he motions Eliott in. “What’s up?” He asks as Eliott plops onto the mattress and leans back on his hands. 

“Not much, what’s up with you?” 

Sofiane shakes his head casually, pursing his lips. “Just checking in,” 

“Sof, I’m fine. You guys don’t need to worry about me every time I pick up a broom or a wash cloth.” 

“No, I know, I just-- I don’t know, the last time we saw you  _ deep  _ cleaning was right before you left, and-- none of us really know what happened with that still..” Eliott chews on his lip, stares down at his lap. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to - that’s not what I’m asking. I just don’t want you to think you can’t talk to us about things,” 

Maybe he’ll tell them what actually happened one day. Or maybe he won’t. Either way, it won’t be today. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he genuinely means it. Sofiane smiles toothily and throws a hand on his back. 

“Yeah, man,” 

“Um-- Lucille’s coming over tonight.” He doesn’t know why it takes his friend by surprise, but it does. 

“Oh? Eh--” Sof moves his mouth to the side, squinting his eyes awkwardly because he isn’t sure what type of reaction he’s supposed to have. “Cool? Is that-- no?” 

Eliott chuckles, “I’m gonna talk to her. Tell her the truth and be done for good,” He thinks that what he’s seeing on the other guys’ face right now is-- pride? But he can’t be certain. It is obvious though that there’s a wide grin forcing its way across Sofiane’s face that he’s trying desperately to stop, but so terribly failing. 

“Cool, dude, that’s-- I’m happy for you,” Eliott cocks an amused brow. “I mean I know that you haven’t really been feeling that great about it for a while now, so it’s good to do something about it.” Eliott nods, because there’s still something his friend isn’t saying so he just stares that intense stare that he does until Sofiane cracks. “Uh, does that mean you’re going after Lucas, or--” 

“What about Lucas?” Alex chimes in, padding into the room from wherever he had disappeared to. Eliott clears his throat quickly, standing up. 

“Nothing, Sof and I were just talking about how great the party was that you missed,” he pointedly ignores the questioning gaze he can feel from his friend. He takes a breath, “Uh, anyways, I should get going...Lucille should be here soon,” 

“Oh, word?” 

There are a few awkward nods after that before he finally deems it time to make his exit, and he does so swiftly. There’s not much preparing he has to do to his room since he’s already nearly spotless and she probably won’t be staying long anyhow, so he tosses himself on his bed and pulls his phone out. 

He acknowledges how shitty of a person it might make him that he’s dying to chat with his crush as he literally waits for his girlfriend to come over so he can dump her for said crush. 

Doesn’t stop him, though. 

**_srodulv_ **

_ What’s a frogs favorite cryptocurrency?  _

_ Ribbit-coin  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ that one was just bad  _

\--

\--

What happens is that he had an entire speech planned, everything worded perfectly with just the right amount of explanation and saving her respect for him maybe if just by a little, but as soon as he sees her his mouth falls dry, brain stops working entirely and he’s totally an asshole who completely freezes up. 

However, 

She seems to have her own idea of how this conversation is going and 100% percent surprises him when the first thing she says to him after settling in the chair at his desk is, “You’re breaking up with me,” and it’s-- not an accusation? She doesn’t sound upset, there’s no break in her voice or tears in her eyes. It’s more an observation than anything. She’s simply stating it. 

He gawks at her and is left  _ thoroughly  _ speechless. And she continues, “I’m not an idiot, Eliott. I know how to read the signs,” And still, he remains silent. She lets out a long breath, but it’s not quite a sigh. “You’ve barely spoken to me in 2 weeks, and though it’s not that irregular after we get into an argument about  _ that,  _ this time felt different.” 

He truly can’t believe how fucking utterly weak he is, sitting here listening to this and not being able to force out a single fucking word. He can’t even look at her, his eyes have been trained to the floor since she first started talking. 

“It’s okay, Eliott.” 

It’s not. 

“I’m not upset with you.” 

She should be. 

“I should have known better, to be honest,” 

And that snaps his attention. “What?” 

She lets out a kind, breathy laugh and licks her lips. “It’s been almost 4 years, you know. We met when we were 18. We’re 21 now. And we’ve broken up a lot, but never for very long, and every time we did it always felt natural coming back to you. Like we were meant to be together, because we always seemed to find our way back. And I know that it’s been a  _ fucking  _ trip - this entire time, it’s never been easy. But somehow even with everything, it was always so worth it. I never had trouble rekindling, or finding that same spark between us that was there from the first time we met. 

“And then we broke up before you left to travel Europe because neither of us wanted to do the long distance thing, and things between us just hadn’t been working out very well in the first place. So we spent 6 months apart. And I got over you. And it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do because I could only ever imagine myself marrying you and no one else, but I did it. Eventually.

“And I don’t know, seeing your name pop up on my screen after such a long time of not speaking to you, and you asked if I could pick you up from the airport..I figured this was it - our last shot at making it work. We spent time apart, we both grew a little. It was perfect. 

“But the spark wasn’t there. And I thought maybe we just needed to get used to each other again, get to know the new versions of each other. Except the spark still wasn’t there, and it never came back, apparently, because it never felt the same between us, it never felt natural again.

“I saw it in your eyes, though. When you were looking at the new kid. I used to think I had seen--  _ experienced  _ every kind of love you had to offer, I thought I had seen all the possible looks in your eyes when they spark with joy, but-- I’ve never seen that before, Eliott. You’ve never looked at me like that...and I think I’m okay with it. We’ve both done things wrong in this relationship, we’ve both been at fault. But I think I love you just enough to want to see you be happy, even if I’m not the person who’s causing it. And he’s lucky, because I know what it’s like to love you, I know what it’s like to make you happy. I know how rewarding it is. You're both lucky.” 

It’s at the end when her voice finally does crack, and by the time she’s done talking Eliott has tears dripping from his eyes, slipping down his cheeks and he’s making no effort to stop them. He's sniffling, his heart is racing. He’s  _ still  _ fucking speechless, and still feels horrible..but somehow not as much. There’s a sense of closure he’s getting, hearing this. Something he’s never gotten before when they broke up, because he had always expected them to never  _ really  _ be done. 

And he thinks Lucille’s getting her own closure as well, and he had never realized before how important it is to him that she get that. Because really, after everything, it’s what she deserves. 

\--

\--

It’s 1h when he pulls up outside of Lucas’ apartment. Because he’s such a fucking romantic and knew this might come in handy at some point, the last time he was here he took note which window belonged to the boy if he was looking up at it from where his view is now. 

Sure, he could text Lucas, send him an easy,  _ hey, let me up.  _ But where’s the fun in that? What’s the point of standing under his window in the middle of the night while he’s  _ mostly likely definitely sleeping,  _ if Eliott wasn’t going to throw little pebbles at the damn glass until his tiny ass woke up?

And that’s exactly what he does - except the first one he threw, unfortunately, hit the window next to his. Eliott  _ thinks  _ that was the living room but there is a slight possibility he could be totally wrong and it belonged to Mama Lallemant instead. 

The second one hits the desired spot, and he gets 3 more before  _ finally  _ a fucking lamp turns on and  _ who knew Lucas was such a hard sleeper?  _ It isn’t long before there’s a nest of bedhead and grumpily furrowed eyebrows staring down at him, lazily and confusedly rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

All Eliott can do is grin, bounce on his feet a little, flick his own eyebrows up once in explanation, and then tilt his head to the side to indicate Lucas come unlock his front door and let him in. After all, it’s also the middle of January and he didn’t think this through enough to put on a fair amount of clothes before he left the house. 

He sprints up the steps two by two until he’s met with a very hazy, but also very adorable high schooler in  _ nothing but his underwear and an oversized t shirt, holy fuck Eliott really didn’t think this through.  _

“Eliott, what--” but the older boy is already pushing past him, taking his hand and dragging him to his room for less chance of being caught. He doesn’t give Lucas the opportunity to say much more - as soon as they’re behind closed doors his hands are on the younger boys’ hips, backing him into the wall, slowly and gently, and giving him room to escape if he wanted to. 

“I broke up with Lucille.” 

Lucas peers up at him with wide blue eyes, “What?” 

“I broke up with her. We’re not together anymore.” His gaze roams over every inch of Lucas’ sleep ridden figure, and he’s more beautiful than Eliott could have ever imagined. 

“Are--are you okay? Do you want to talk about it, or..” he trails off, hesitance evident in his words. Eliott grins, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head. His fingers wrap themselves in Lucas’ shirt where they remain to rest at his hips, and the action only serves to bring the two closer together. 

“Do you want this?” he whispers - softly, tenderly, but oh so desperate. He chances a glance back up to Lucas’ own irises from where he’d been staring at his mouth. “Do you want this?” 

With their close proximity, he hears more than sees Lucas swallow. And then, “Yes,” 

“Yes?” 

“Yes,” 

“Are you sure? Because say the word and I’ll go, we can talk about this in the morning. Or-- never, if that’s what you want, whatever it is.” 

Lucas’ tongue skims across his lips, wetting them. “No,” he says, as he snakes a hand up Eliott’s shoulder and to the back of his neck, settling in his hair. “I want this,” 

And that’s all Eliott needed to hear before he crashes their lips together, pushing the boy back into the door. The kiss was messy and heated and full of  _ want,  _ and _ need,  _ and _ desire.  _ Sloppy, yet so passionate. They’re tongues ravished each other’s mouths, dipping into every corner and crevice. Teeth clattering together as they swallowed each others moans. 

Eliott’s hands dipped down to the back of Lucas’ thighs and the same time the boy jumped up, wrapping his legs around the taller’s waist, where Eliott happily carried them both over to the bed. He laid Lucas down, breaking the kiss only to admire how genuinely gorgeous he looked - red, swollen and spit slicked lips. His hair a fucking mess, t shirt wrinkled. 

Eliott reached for his hoodie and pulled it over his head along with his undershirt, and barely broke eye contact with Lucas as he did the same with his own shirt. 

They melted into his each other after that; feeling, touching; worshiping the other’s bodies; kissing down every inch of skin and leaving purple marks. 

Lucas came with his teeth dug into Eliott’s shoulder, muffling his cries of pleasure, and Eliott won’t ever forget how he felt in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey shoutout to my brother for supplying me with that god awful bitcoin joke. 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr @spn-skam :))
> 
> also i love lucille okay, i think she's really pure and should be protected at all costs. (but honestly that scene literally just wrote itself and i had absolutely no say in it so i'm sorry if you love her too and didn't think it did her justice???? and also that it was literally just dialogue???)


	9. Slowly Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out writing is like a looottttt better when you have someone to beta for you so shoutout to @confusedconnor on tumblr for doing that and being super awesome and helpful with literally everything else cuz i actually couldn't have done this without him. 
> 
> also TW for mentions of drug addiction and the affects it can have on those around it. 
> 
> title - slowly falling, j. cyrus

In his dream they’re lying in the grass in a meadow somewhere. The sun is shining, bees are buzzing, flowers smelling of..flowers (Lucas doesn’t know, he thinks they all smell the same). He’s squinting up at the sky as they attempt to make shapes out of the clouds. Eliott sees all of these random, peculiar things like a curly haired head holding a mic up to it, or an omelette mid-flip out of a skillet. To Lucas, they’re just blobs, but he thinks that’s what’s so great about Eliott - how he finds the beauty of things, the obscurity. He’s able to spot certain deepnesses that no one else does, look past the surface and recognize the profoundness of  _ literally anything. _ It’s rather interesting to watch, really, and Lucas thinks of himself immensely lucky to be able to witness it. 

Of course, this could all just be apart of the dream. Not that he’s currently aware it’s a dream, but he soon will be. 

“I..I think it’s a skateboard.” Eliott ponders out loud, and Lucas tilts his head to glance at him out of the side of his eye. “With a.. _ chicken?  _ I’m gonna say that’s a chicken.” To be honest, Lucas has no idea how the older boy does it because that is not  _ at all  _ what he’s seeing right now, but again, that’s Eliott. He’s amazing in that way. “What do you see?” 

A large clutter of fog and mist compiling into... _ that.  _ Just a cloud. “I think it looks like a raccoon.” 

“A  _ raccoon? _ ” 

Lucas grins softly and turns on his side. He reaches out to grab Eliott’s arm from where it’s resting on his abdomen, and he traces his fingers over the tattoo of the animal. “Did it hurt?” 

“A little, since it’s right on the bone,” Eliott shifts too, facing Lucas. “Are you interested in getting one?” The blue of his eyes has always been uniquely striking, but out here in the bright light, where the sun shines hot on them-- they’re extraordinary. Really, truly, a magnificent sight. Lucas can never pick one color of blue that properly does them justice. And it’s not because their shade varies depending on what light they’re under, it’s because there’s not a single word, in any vocabulary of any language, that could adequately delineate their beauty. “Lucas?  _ Lucas--” _

“Lucas? Are you awake? You’re going to be late!” 

He blearily blinks his eyes open as he’s pulled out of a peaceful slumber. His mom’s knocking on his door, yelling his name from the other side and it’s only then that he takes in his surroundings - the situation he’s in. It’s Thursday morning and he’s sprawled out in his bed with a sleeping Eliott pressed against his back while his mother calls for him to wake up. 

_ “Shit,”  _ he curses and jumps up. “Eliott, Eliott wake up,” he can’t believe he fucking forgot it was a school night. In the midst of the events last night, letting his mind be overthrown by the distractions that were those of Eliott - of course - confessions of feelings, and  _ sex,  _ he had totally and one hundred percent neglected to consider what might happen the following morning. 

He calls out to his mom, “Uh-- I-I’m awake!” and climbs out of bed, pointedly ignoring the groggy boy rousing out of sleep himself because the last thing he needs is more fucking distractions. “Fuck,  _ fuck, _ ” it’s not so much being late to school that he’s worrying about, but more his mother and Gilles finding out that he snuck a boy in in the middle of the night to make out with and do  _ other  _ non platonic or straight things with. 

The clock on his wall says he has 20 minutes to get dressed  _ and  _ get to school, and there’s no fucking way that he’s going to make it to the bus stop in time to catch it, so he’s just going to have to hawl ass on foot. The only good thing about this is that his mom should be leaving any minute now and Gilles is damn near impossible to wake up before 12 on his days off, like today. 

As he pulls on his jeans and a hoodie, he quickly realizes that nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was faced with after swiveling around to the rest of the room. Eliott stands there, having seemingly already pulled on his fucking orange boxers but nothing else. His hand scratching at his bed hair, face scrunched up. And this is why Lucas didn’t want to look before - because  _ this  _ is indubitably the most adorable thing he has ever seen. 

He’s got this overwhelming urge to drop all of the problems at hand and just strut across the carpet to cup the older boys’ face in his palms and kiss him all over. It only gets worse as Eliott yawns and stretches his arms over his head, arching his back and poking his abdomen out. Lucas has to look away. 

Things are only slightly less stressful at the sound of the front door shutting, and after that he feels like he can breathe just a little bit lighter. “Um, did you sleep okay?” 

Eliott smiles, cards a hand through his unruly locks. “I did. Did you?” 

“Yeah,” his mind flashes back to the dream he was having right before his harsh awakening, and he wants more than anything to be back there; so peaceful and secluded with just the two of them, all close and together and having every minute in the world to just  _ be _ , without any responsibilities or obligations. 

It’s their first night spent together, their first morning getting ready together and they work pretty great around the other. It’s effortless the way they move - crossing paths but never in the way, sharing their space but never feeling cramped. Lucas’ mom insists on keeping a bunch of cheap, spare toothbrushes in the bathroom in case anyone ever needs one. He and Eliott stand side by side at the sink, staring at each other in the mirror as they brush. It’s no easy feat - brushing with a wide grin plastered to your face, Lucas is finding. 

“I can drive you,” Eliott offers as they walk out the door, “So you’re not late,” and yeah, there’s no way Lucas is going to turn that down even if he wanted to. The drive is spent silent with stolen gazes when the other isn’t looking, both with a pleased, fond upturn of their lips. It’s still sort of unreal to Lucas, sitting in the passenger seat of Eliott’s car while the older guy drives him to school. It’s unreal that he spent the night curled up with Eliott. It’s unreal that Eliott showed up outside his window in the middle of the night. And it’s unreal that between the kisses and lingering touches, Eliott whispered to him in all the ways he had been dreaming of doing just that. 

It’s unreal that Eliott reciprocated Lucas’ feelings at all. 

Like, sure, Lucas had  _ hoped,  _ and there was a little part of him that had maybe suspected, but he didn’t want to set himself up for heartbreak and disappointment. This is the first time since James that he had any desire to be in an actual relationship. It’s the first time that he’s wanted more, to be able to connect with someone and share on levels that you don’t with anyone else. 

And it fucking terrifies him but he thinks he can do it. 

They pull up to the school with just a few minutes to spare, and Lucas can already spot his friends huddled together out front. “So, meet you back here afterwards to pick you up?” Eliott smirks with a cocky eyebrow raised, and he’s joking. Or at least, Lucas thinks he's joking. 

So the younger giggles, rolling his eyes. “Don't you have a class to get to?” 

“Well, yeah, but not until this afternoon.” 

“I have to work after school.” 

“I’ll drive you.” 

Lucas can't help but laugh at the persistency. It's not overly pushy, it’s not controlling or dominating. There's only eagerness and mirth in his voice, and it's oddly endearing, in a way. “We’ll see,” he teases, unbuckling his seatbelt. When he moves to wrap his fingers around the door handle, there's a hand on his other arm stopping him. 

“Uhm-- wait.” Now Eliott sounds shy, hesitant, and it's just a stark contrast from the confidence oozing out of him just mere seconds ago. All jokes aside, completely serious. He keeps his eyes cast down as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt with one hand, his other still resting on Lucas’ wrist. “I, er, I had a nice time with you…” 

You don't really get to see Eliott very bashful at times. Lucas hasn't known him long, but he does know that there’s a façade of collectedness and self assurance that he puts on around other people. 

Lucas saw it that day at the cafe after the whole bowling alley thing. He saw a glimpse of it this past weekend at his party with the MI thing. He thinks he saw it last night when Eliott thought Lucas could ever possibly turn him down. And he sees it now. 

“Yeah? Me too,” he bites his lip, considering for a few moments before leaning forward and reaching out a hand to Eliott’s cheek, cradling it. “I really have to go though.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Despite the forced separation, Lucas can’t seem to stop the smile etched onto his mouth. For the entire ride, every little thing made him sparkle with joy. Now, he looks off to the side because he’s not sure what move to make here, but he knows what he  _ wants  _ to do, and before his anxious, doubtful nerves get the best of him he leans forward, tugging Eliott with him until they meet in a kiss. It’s chaste, but firm, and it heats up Lucas’ entire face. “Okay, time to go.” 

“Okay,” but neither of them are moving. 

The high schooler breaks into a breathy giggle, “Okay.” It takes every ounce of willpower that he has to pull himself away, tell Eliott goodbye, and climb out of the car. And even then he stops to wave before fully turning around to start the short tread to his friends, only to turn  _ back  _ around when he hears the sound of Eliott’s car driving away, tires screeching on the pavement to make a scene.  _ Show off.  _

The boys are all looking at him expectantly, knowing grins on their faces when he approaches. Yann nods his head, smirking, “What was that?” 

“I don’t know what you mean?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Shut up,” but yet he smiles to himself because he’s  _ happy.  _ So fucking happy. Yann throws an arm around his shoulder as they walk to class, his expression is of a proud older brother. When he speaks it’s low enough so that the others don’t hear him, since neither are in the mood for the inevitable chaos. 

“You know you’re telling me everything, right?” and Lucas nods,  _ obviously.  _

\--

\--

He feels  _ okay _ about PE. He has it with Yann, for one, and usually they're doing something at least semi bearable like badminton or even basketball (though it's not Lucas’ favorite.) There's strangely a lot of pent up energy inside his tiny little body, so he feels like it's a good time to get some of it out. 

He hates his coach, however. And almost just about every other student in there. It’s okay most of the time, because he just chats with Yann and can typically seclude themselves from whatever else is happening with the rest of the class. But sometimes his coach is all  _ “Do better, Lallemant,”  _ because apparently tossing a ball back and forth with your friend in the furthest corner of the gym isn't really being  _ active,  _ as much as it is minimal effort. But what can he say. 

Today they're not doing much, it's more of a “free for all” thing, and it has been made  _ abundantly clear  _ to Lucas several times throughout the mere 5 hours they've been in school so far that he is  _ obligated  _ to dish out all of the shameful secrets he’s harboring about what the hell he was doing getting out of Eliott Demaury's car this morning. Therefore, this is how Lucas finds himself  _ back  _ in the corner with Yann, except this time instead of a ball it’s a racquet and shuttlecock - and no net - as his friend continues to pressure him for details. 

“I don't understand. You spent the  _ entire  _ night with him and just didn't have sex?  _ You?”  _

Lucas squints his eyes. “Piss off,” he mutters because  _ no,  _ they didn't actually have sex. Not like  _ that.  _ Lucas doesn't want to do that yet. He has actual, genuine, extremely strong feelings for Eliott, and he doesn't want to cheapen whatever this is by plummeting right into  _ that,  _ because Lucas does it with everyone. He wants it to be different with Eliott because Eliott is different. “No, I mean, we did stuff but not a lot. Mostly we just talked.” 

“Talked.” Yann repeats, voiced laced with suspicion and disbelief. 

“Yes,  _ talked,  _ asshole.” Though the pair were mutually exhausted after the events of the night (and for the older earlier in the day,) Lucas’ entire body was buzzing with energy to the point where he could barely keep his eyes closed for longer than a few seconds. He tried to lay down and sleep, both of them did, but the feeling of having Eliott with him, curled up behind him and a grounding presence throughout the night was too much of a hindrance for anything other than just lying there and taking it in. Even now, his head is still reeling. 

Yann throws his hands up in mock defense. He half-assed hit the shuttlecock, making it fly way off to the side and Lucas almost falls when he dives to reach it, and still misses. He huffs a breath at his friend who’s just watching amusedly. “Sorry,” Yann chuckles. “So how does it feel?” 

“How does what feel?” 

“You know,” he shrugs his shoulders forward and does some weird thing with his eyes like Lucas is supposed to know what he’s talking about. “Being with Eliott,” he teases, “is it everything you ever hoped it would be?” 

_ And more, _ Lucas thinks lovingly, but out loud he mumbles an annoyed, “Shut up,” before answering, “It hasn’t even been a whole day yet.” But at this point it doesn’t matter. 

The shorter tosses the small cone into the air, jumping only slightly to whack it with his racquet. Yann underestimates the distance of how far behind him it’s going and he staggers back to get it in time but fails, unable to maintain his balance and crashes into the rubber flooring. “Fuck,” he curses, and Lucas lurches forward in a laugh, his stomach aching as he bends over his knees. 

“Lallemant, Cazas,” the coach calls from the other side of the gym, and Lucas should have known he’d be watching. “Enough horsing around.”

Their immediate reaction is to cringe - both of them because who says  _ horsing around  _ like that anyways? Yann mutters back some vague, “Yes, sir,” in response but it’s muffled by his laughing so all he gets in return is an even more disapproving glance than they originally had. He shifts back, “Enough horsing around, Lucas.” 

Lucas flips him off. 

—

—

When the last bell rings he’s filled with both relief and nervousness. Relief because he’s done with this hellhole for the day, and nervousness because in less than 10 minutes Eliott’s going to pull up outside of the school, pick Lucas up, and drive him to work. 

It’s a giddy nervousness, he thinks, but it’s still nervousness nonetheless. The butterflies in his stomach are going fucking crazy because he’s anxious, he’s excited, he’s jittery. It might have something to do with the text he received from James earlier in the day, asking him to please respond to his messages - he needs help. Lucas deleted it like he always does and then locks the whole incident away in the back of his mind so that he doesn’t have to think about it. Like he always does. 

He waits outside with his friends. Baz and Yann are standing in front of him and Arthur, who are perched on top of the cement wall. They’re all chatting animatedly about girls and some party they heard was being thrown this weekend. Lucas tries to pay attention to what they’re saying - he really does, but it’s a lot as he taps his foot, nibbles on his lip, tugs at the bottom hem of his shirt. He can’t quit fucking fidgeting and it’s driving him insane. 

He  _ really  _ shouldn’t be having this sort of reaction since he already knows Eliott. They’ve spent plenty of time together, shared plenty of embarrassing moments with each other. And yet, it’s that dumb fucking  _ new crush _ feeling. Even though this crush isn’t really all that new. But you know how it feels to have someone you’re deeply and ridiculously attracted to acknowledge you? Like, at the first eye contact, or the first words spoken to each other, the first text sent, the first friend to come up to you and say,  _ hey, my mate over there thinks you’re cute. _

The feeling of your face warming up because it’s unavoidable. Your heart feels like it dropped into your stomach, but still somehow manages to beat 100 miles a minute. You question whether this is real or not. You might go back and forth inside your head, arguing with those two assholes that have made a permanent home atop your shoulders, one positive and one negative. They constantly rival each other. 

Eventually you give in and let yourself believe it, and sometimes it works out totally and completely, all is well. Other times though, it turns around to really bite you in the ass and fucking it hurts, but in the end it’s a chance you have to take. 

After the acceptance, you’re shocked and absolutely fucking elated. Heart’s pounding, you can feel the blood pulsing in your face, hear it in your ears and you swear to God you’ll never be as happy as you are in that moment. This is  _ it.  _ Nothing will ever come close. 

That’s how Lucas feels right now. Euphoric. Bursting with joy, but  _ so fucking overwrought.  _ Except it’s positive, all positive. There’s just a lot of it and it’s super overwhelming. 

“Dude,” Arthur lays a hand on Lucas’ knee twitching restlessly. “You’re making  _ me  _ anxious. What’s the deal?” 

Lucas snaps his eyes over to Yann, who’s smirking already, having been glancing over at him every few seconds because he finds entertainment in watching his best friend struggle. “He’s just freaking out since he’s got a hot date with Eliott in a few.” 

“It’s not a  _ date,”  _ Lucas grumbles around the hand pulling at his lip and he glares at the other boy. “He’s driving me to the café.” 

Basile gasps, face morphing into enthusiasm as he  _ ooo’s  _ and flips his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Arthur wraps an arm around his neighbors shoulder and wriggles him. “Our little Lulu is growing up,” he runs a hand through his hair dramatically, petting him and forcing Lucas’ head onto his shoulder where he can rest his chin on top of it. 

Basile hums. “This is a big moment, you guys. It means James is officially in the past and Eliott is the new future.” 

At the mention of his name, there’s a dark, uneasiness whirling around in Lucas’ gut that he wishes more than anything he could shake. He’s so sick of instantly being overcome with dread and guilt anytime the guy is so much as mentioned. 

Arthur looks up at their curly haired friend, “James was already in the past.” Lucas really wants them to stop saying his name. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s not real until you meet someone new.” 

“Uhhh,” Arthur contemplates, “I don’t think it—“ 

“Oh look, there’s Eliott now.” Yann announces, pointedly interrupting the two and Lucas could fucking kiss him right now. He follows Yann’s gaze to the side parking lot and sure enough, a college boy in his dark green honda is pulling in, and even from so far away Lucas can see the wide grin spread across his face. It makes him match with one of his own. 

He stands up and pulls his bag over his shoulder, subtly straightening out his shirt and maneuvering behind the guys to hide behind them for a split second to card antsy fingers through his own unmanageable hair, attempting to tame it if only just a little. “Okay, um-- see you guys later.” 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Arthur muses jokingly. Lucas furrows one eyebrow, cocks the other. 

“You’ve already met him.” 

“Not as your boyfriend.”

_ Boyfriend.  _ Even though the statement was barely anything, it still sparks a satisfied rumble deep within him, makes his heart race just a bit faster. He doesn’t hate the word as much as he did a few months ago, and usually anytime he hears it in the context of his own name, he internally cringes because all he can attach to it is negativity and unpleasant memories and  _ James.  _ But now, hearing it in a sentence and being complimented by  _ Eliott’s name --  _ he likes it. More than he’d care to admit out loud. 

“He’s not my boyfriend..” because he’s not. 

_ “Yet.”  _ The boys all say in unison, and Lucas blushes. 

“Whatever,” but the smile on his face refuses to fade. When he turns around to begin the short tread to Eliott’s car, the first thing he notices is the older boy leaning cooly against it; arms crossed over his chest, legs twisted at the ankles. He simpers, watching as Lucas gradually gets closer and closer, and when he finally approaches and they’re no less than a foot apart, he greets him.

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“Have a nice day?” 

“Yeah, it was alright,” he ignores the whistles coming from his friends back at the wall, “Did you?” 

There’s a marginal nod Eliott does, and Lucas relishes in the way the other’s eyes flicker down to his lips and back up before shrugging, “Better now.” There’s more hooting behind them that breaks the spell of eye contact the two were in. 

“Sorry, they’re-- excited.” 

Eliott looks up and breathes a laugh. “Should I go say hi?” He pushes off the car and moves to make his way around Lucas’ body, but the smaller boy quickly reaches out to grab his wrist, except he underestimates either the strength he puts into it, or the willingness at which Eliott allows himself to be pulled. Whatever it is they end up flush against each other.

“No, it’s okay,” he licks his lips, and there are Eliott’s eyes again - following the movement. He’s leaning in, the upper half of his body right on top of Lucas’ and before the younger knows it they’re a mere centimeter apart and Eliott’s arm is pressing against Lucas’ side and he  _ just waits  _ to feel a hand on his back or his waist or neck or  _ something  _ but it never comes. Only the sound of the car door handle popping open. 

“After you,” Eliott mutters right at Lucas’ ear. He smirks, and Lucas lets out a breath. 

“Right.” It’s when he’s climbing into the passenger seat that the roaring whoops and hollers start up again from the other side of the parking lot. He glares at them as they clap and throw their arms in the air in motivation, praise, cheer. As annoying as it is and just downright  _ embarrassing,  _ and no matter how hard he struggles to keep the fierce crease in his eyebrows, there will never be a point in time where he isn’t filled with immense gratitude at the amount of support he gets. 

He shakes his head in mock exasperation as Eliott shuts the door for him, and then he fails to suppress the burst of laughter that escapes him when Eliott throws the gang a big thumbs up. 

“Encouraging them will only make it worse,” Lucas razzes. 

“I like them. They seem like nice guys.” 

_ They are.  _

This morning when they were driving Lucas wasn’t very observant - too busy grinning from ear to ear every time he looked at Eliott, and thinking about his night. Now though, he’s catching himself paying attention to the little things. Like, how Eliott only drives with one hand and taps his fingers on his thumb with the other one. Lucas wonders if it’s an anxiety thing, or maybe something he just does absentmindedly without really realizing it. His seat is reclined, the back laid down as far as it will go even though he himself hunches over the steering wheel for the most part, and rests his forearm on top when there aren’t many turns. 

Lucas watches as he smokes a cigarette and wonders how easy it is for him to just flick the ashes out the window and not have to worry about the sparks flying back on him. Or how patient he stays when the asshole in front cuts them off and causes Eliott to hit the breaks a little harsher than he would have needed to. How, every time they drive through a yellow light he kisses the tips of his fingers and then touches them to the roof of the car. 

“You’re supposed to do that,” he clarifies when he catches the weird look Lucas gives him. “It’s for good luck.” 

“How would it give you good luck?” 

Eliott shrugs, opens his mouth in explanation but then shuts it. He contemplates for a few moments and all the while Lucas continues to watch, a smile playing on his lips. Alas, the older answers, “It just does. And it hasn’t failed me yet, so.” 

“Okay,” Lucas chuckles. They go a few more moments of listening to music on a low volume, Eliott mouthing along to the words and bobbing his head to the beat. But Lucas has never been one for superstitions, so he can’t help but to push teasingly. “What good luck has it brought you?” 

“Well I haven’t crashed yet.” 

The first thought that comes into Lucas’ mind is that he doesn’t think that’s necessarily  _ good luck,  _ per se, but mostly just  _ not  _ bad luck. He refrains from expressing it out loud because it’s fucking cute how Eliott believes in this bullshit and he doesn’t want to dull the shine, so he nods along credulously, “Makes sense. What other superstitions do you think are real?” 

He purses his lips, glancing at Lucas from the side as he ponders. “Every time I step onto a plane it’s with my right foot.” It makes the other boy narrow his eyes because  _ what the fuck,  _ but it’s nothing compared to the second thing that comes out of his mouth.

“And I only wear orange underwear.” Lucas stares at him, can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “Or, I mean, something pretty similar to orange. You know, in the same field.”

“You’re lying.” 

He throws up one of his hands in defense. “Swear,”  _ How.. what?  _ “I don’t know how it happened, one day I was just kind of like,  _ oh this is a lot of orange,  _ and I guess decided for myself it was lucky. Now when I open up the drawer and consider any of the other colors I ask myself,  _ do I really want to not be lucky today?  _ and then I just pick an orange pair.” 

Lucas… can’t believe what the fuck he’s hearing. Really, he’s confused, but… also in awe because  _ what?  _ It makes his mind flash back to this morning, and he realizes yeah, he supposes Eliott was wearing orange. Or,  _ tangerine.  _

“You’re pretty weird,” and Eliott turns his head, lifting one of his brows. He smiles.

“So are you,” and maybe this isn’t really the right time to gaze into each other’s eyes all earnestly and whatnot, but they are. Until Lucas feels the pink blush slowly creeping up his neck and he points to the front, playfully chastising, “You’re gonna make us wreck and then all that orange underwear and roof kissing will be for nothing.” 

Eliott belts a laugh, sounding so fucking beautiful, and looks away. 

It’s when they’re less than a block from the café that his phone rings in his pocket and he wiggles around in his seat to reach a hand into at the same time Eliott moves to turn down the radio. It’s an unknown caller, which should be his first hint, but Lucas is sure to note that there’s no familiarity in the order of numbers so he brushes off any red lights flashing inside his head and presses the green button. “Hello?” 

_ “Hey, it’s J.”  _

If he was being honest with himself, he should have expected exactly this as soon as his finger moved across the screen to answer. Yet, he still feels his insides flip, the hairs on the back of his neck immediately sticking up at the sound of the voice in his ear; a reaction that never fails when he sees or hears James. Always, always,  _ always  _ filling him with disturbance and just sheer panic. 

He doesn’t speak, just gulps. 

_ “Look, um, I-I’m in trouble, okay? I need your help, just-- just a few bucks so I can pay these guys back and I swear I’ll repay you, I just-- I need this, Lucas, please.”  _

Silence, still. He doesn’t think he’d be able to get the words out even if he wanted to. 

_ “Forty dollars, that’s it, I promise you that’s all. F-Fifty at the most. _ Please.” 

Lucas doesn’t know how he manages to do it, but somehow he musters up enough sturdiness in his voice to choke out, “Sorry, I think you have the wrong--”

_ “Lucas! Fuck! You can spare sixty fucking dollars, alright? I know you can.”  _ The sudden snap makes him flinch, and he grips his leg with his other hand, digging his fingernails into his jeans. It’s quiet again, he can hear James breathing on the other end. Mentally, his brain his begging him--  _ screaming _ at him to hang up. Just fucking pull the phone from his ear and end the damn call, and  _ fuck,  _ he wants to, but,  _ physically,  _ he can’t. It’s like he’s glued. 

James lets out a harsh sigh.  _ “Shit, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to flip out like that, I’m just-- I need the money, Lucas. You don’t understand, I-- I need it.”  _

“I can’t,” is all he says. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the unavoidable explosion. There’s a pause, a deafening silence that only serves to make his stomach chern. And then, 

_ “Don’t  _ ever _ fucking ask me for  _ shit,  _ do you hear me? Because one of these days everyone you know is going to screw you  _ the fuck _ over and you’re gonna come to  _ me,  _ and I’m gonna tell you to  _ fuck. off.  _ You’re a fucking piece of shit, Lucas--”  _

If someone asked him why he sat there and listened to every word, every insult, every curse, every threat, he couldn’t for the life of him tell them why. All he knows is that he froze up, not a bone in his body able to move. At some point the only noise he was registering were the sounds of his heart beating, loud as a fucking drum, right there in his ear.  _ Thump. Thump. Thump.  _ Over and over again, louder and louder. 

He attempts to steady his breathing, not trying to freak out right here in Eliott’s car while he’s getting dropped off at work. 

_ “--And I swear to God you will fucking pay for this. Mark my fucking words, Lucas.”  _ At that, he hangs up. Lucas blankly stares ahead of him, his phone still held up to his ear. He isn’t sure how many minutes pass, if even any at all, maybe it was only a couple of seconds that just felt like neverending hours. But eventually Eliott’s voice, calming and sweet and full of worry, pulls him out of his haze. 

“Are you okay?” His hand is on Lucas’ shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into the blade. 

“Yeah, uh, wrong number, I guess,” the younger boy forces out a laugh to try and ease the atmosphere - perhaps be a bit more convincing but it’s clear in the way Eliott squints his eyes and crinkles his eyebrows together that he’s not in any way satisfied with the answer, yet he still nods his head, mutters an, “Okay...” and moves to pull his hand away but Lucas makes a hasty snatch at it. He tugs it into his lap, wraps both of his own hands  around it and smiles best he can at the other guy. 

Eliott’s touch levels him, pulls him back down to earth and makes him feel at least a little guarded. “Are you… sure everything’s okay?” 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t make eye contact because he doesn’t think he’d be able to stand it, he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure and all of his emotions  _ inside  _ where they belong, because these types of discussions and interactions with James  _ always  _ make him feel like shit. They always jossle him and shake him up and it takes forever to feel normalcy again afterwards because even after everything, it’s still incredibly difficult for him to grasp that someone he once loved with  _ every single ounce of him,  _ and genuinely thought he’d be with forever, could just end up like  _ this,  _ and cause him nothing but absolute pain. 

As much as he longs to understand it, he knows he never will. 

He feels himself slowly being heaved, Eliott’s folded an arm around his shoulder and is gently dragging him closer into the other’s arms. Lucas allows it, lets it happen because he wants it,  _ needs _ it; the soothingness of Eliott’s scent; the calming of his lips pressed to Lucas’ forehead; the secureness of being grasped tightly, tucked into his side with a protective limb wrapped around him. 

And he’s definitely late for work but it’ll be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stole the superstitions from jensen ackles and misha collins, so thanks for that


	10. Weight of Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my best beta in the entire world @confusedconnor for being so fucking awesome 
> 
> title - weight of living pt 1, Bastille
> 
> TW for talks of addiction & the effects it has on those around it

“Stop squirming.” 

“ _ You  _ stop squirming!” 

“Eliott,” Lucas sighs, giggling, “I can’t reach it properly. Stand up straighter.” 

_ “I can’t.  _ You’re heavier than you look,” and he guesses he should have expected the slight kick in his ribs after saying it, but he still groans in protest. They’re in the kitchen at the frat house. It’s Saturday afternoon and the place is fairly empty. The two boys had spent the day so far cooped up in Eliott’s room when Lucas decided that he was hungry for something sweet and was adamant that they bake. Eliott asked him,  _ “Why bake when we can just go buy something fresh and hot?”  _ to which Lucas had promptly replied,  _ “Because buying it already made isn’t the same. It’s more fun to do it this way,”  _ and once he turns those fucking puppy dog eyes on at Eliott, there’s no more room for protest. 

That’s how they find themselves in their current predicament - Lucas perched on Eliott’s shoulders as he attempts to reach the top of the counters in search for a cake pan. 

“Fuck off, I am not,” he replies, and Eliott smirks to himself. It’s so easy to rile him up. “This should be a lot easier what with you being a fucking tower and all.” 

“Says the one who has to stand on his tippy toes just to see over the sink,” Lucas’ hand presses into Eliott’s hair to steady himself as he stretches forward, and perhaps his clasp is a bit tighter than completely needed to. Maybe in retaliation to the height quip, maybe not, but Eliott doesn’t say anything, just breathes a laugh at their childness. 

“Got it.”

“So I can put you down now?” One of the hands wrapped around Lucas’ ankles for grip is slid up under his pants leg, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the bottom of his calf. He feels fingers card through his hair, a softness in contrast to what it was before; it’s soothing now. 

“I don’t know, I rather like it up here. Makes me feel big,” he waves the cake pan in front of Eliott’s face, who snorts as he takes it, but more to Lucas’ words than the action. “I think we should just go on like this, what do you think?” Instead of a verbal response, Eliott leans the top half of his body to the side, causing the boy on top of him to lean as well. “What are you-- Eliott  _ no, _ ” his hands coming down to grab onto Eliott’s sweatshirt clad shoulders as he starts swaying to the other side. “Eliott  _ put me down.”  _

“Are you sure? I thought you liked it up there.” Back to the right. 

Lucas hits the side of his arm in a small tantrum, his voice getting a teeny bit higher. “You fucking asshole, put me down,” and though Eliott doesn’t want to, he has no choice but to follow the order, simply because if he doesn’t then Lucas is going to tip them over  _ himself  _ with the amount of squirming he’s doing. 

He carries them back over to the island, “Alright, alright, alright. Hold still,” he squats down low enough to deposit the boy onto the counter, who, at the moment, is a giggling mess. Eliott stands up straight and steps in between Lucas’ legs, sliding his hands up his thighs. “So you’re afraid of heights, huh?” 

“Obviously not,” Lucas scoffs. “I’m just not particularly fond of falling.”

“Oh, right,” Eliott nods along knowingly. He slants forward until his forehead is pressed against Lucas’, and he smiles up at him like that, making the other boy laugh. They stay like that for a few seconds, gazing at each other, so close their eyelashes could almost brush, until they hear footsteps approach and Eliott marginally cocks his head to the side to see, then quickly jumps away. “Uh-- Alex, hey,” he scratches at the back of his neck antsily, a good foot apart from Lucas. 

Alex flicks his eyes back and forth between the two suspiciously, furrows his brows and looks more disapproving than Eliott quite frankly cares for. “What’s up?” 

“We’re baking a cake,” Lucas informs enthusiastically, hopping off of the counter and padding over to where Eliott’s standing in front of the box of mix. He reaches for it, invading Eliott’s space and pressing more into his side than what might be strictly necessary, and were this literally any other time where they  _ weren't  _ standing right in front of Alex, Eliott wouldn't have minded. Unfortunately, Alex  _ is here _ and looks like he knows exactly what's going on and is eminently unhappy with it. “Wanna join?” 

Eliott studies his friend's face, notes the way his eyes are harsh and deploring while looking at Eliott himself, but how they turn soft and warm when shifting over and settling on Lucas. “I’ll pass,” he grins and holds up a water bottle in his hand. “Just came to fill this up.”

“Lame.”

Eliott has more or less been frozen to the spot where he stands, internally freaking out. It might have something to do with the fact that since the moment he met Lucas, it's been made  _ acutely aware  _ to him by his friend that he  _ is not  _ to pursue any sort of relationship with the boy unless purely platonic. He failed, obviously. Not for lack of trying (though he didn't really try  _ that  _ hard) but mostly because there was absolutely no possible outcome of this where he gave up on what was now decidedly the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Only thing is, in doing so, he was also putting his relationship with one of his best friends in jeopardy, which was, admittedly, probably not a super smart choice. And maybe Alex won't be upset for long, but the point is that he’s upset  _ at all,  _ because Eliott chose to think with his dick and do something he was explicitly asked not to. 

_ “Lucas is off limits.”  _ Alex had told him, and it was final, dismissive. Left no room for Eliott to take anything else out of it other than:  _ don’t do it.  _ And yet, here he is, doing it. In a relationship with Lucas and  _ loving every fucking minute of it,  _ even if it has only been a measly 2 weeks. 

Not measly,  _ significant.  _ But still, 2 weeks nonetheless. 

“Eliott?” Lucas’ voice pulls him back into the present, pulls him out of the inside of his head where he wrestles with his thoughts. “Can you get me the eggs out?” Eliott does, refraining from responding verbally, and while his face is buried in the refrigerator in search for the requested ingredient, he hears Alex say,

“So you two are pretty close now, huh?” 

When Eliott turns around to place the eggs next to Lucas, the younger boy’s mouth splits into a grateful grin, “Thank you,” he’s still gazing up at Eliott when he replies to Alex, “Yeah, I suppose so,” and  _ fuck,  _ Eliott has never seen Lucas wink in the entirety of the time they’ve known each other, and the moment that it happens has to be when Eliott can’t even take a single second to appreciate it because he’s nearly sweating he’s so fucking nervous, and trying his absolute damndest to mask the shame he feels at being such a shitty friend. 

He keeps his eyes cast down, stares blankly at the batter Lucas is mixing. He doesn’t want to look up, make eye contact and then his eyes spill every secret he’s ever kept in his whole life. He can feel Alex watching him, he can feel the scrutiny and the judgement and disappointment. He feels every fucking bit of it. And he refuses to look up, even though he knows he should, even though he knows it’s immature, it’s juvenile and it shows  _ precisely _ how weak he actually is - that he can’t even face up to it. 

He knows it’s only perfect timing, nothing else when Lucas nudges him in his side, asks if he can continue stirring while the other fetches a pan to pour the batter into. Now Eliott actually has something to focus his attention on, a reason for him to keep his eyes averted. 

“Really cool that you guys are getting along so well.”  _ Don’t look up. Keep your head down.  _ “Right, Eliott?” 

“Hm?” Just a quick glance, a half a second, that’s it, and it still fucking trapped him. 

Alex levels him with a pointed stare. “Lucas,” he clarifies. 

“Oh, oh yeah, he-- is great.” And he is. An unfathomable amount.

Eliott takes a peek at Lucas and his reaction, and the boy is just peering up at him, his blue eyes sparkling. There’s this tiny upturn of his lips, and it’s clear that he’s yet to catch on to any of the tension in the room. Eliott hasn’t decided if he thinks that’s a blessing or not. 

“Um--”

“Hey, Eli,” Alex voices, “Can you help me with something? My car’s making some pretty weird noises, I was wondering if you would take a look at it, see if I’m not just imagining shit.”

“I don’t know anything about cars.”

“Well you know more than I do, at least.”

He knows how to change a tire, he knows how to jump it off. He doesn’t see how either of those things apply here, but he knows he isn’t going to be able to get out of this, apparently, and the more he attempts to, the more it’s going to raise suspicion to Lucas. “Uh-- yeah, I guess.” He refrains from peeking at Alex as he walks passed him, and when they venture through the living room and out to the porch, he keeps his head bowed like a reprimanded puppy. He’s fucked. 

When they step outside he stops just outside the door, turns to his friend and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “So what’s up?” 

“You’re sleeping with him.” 

Eliott gulps. “Who?” 

“You know who. You’re fucking sleeping with him, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. It’s phrased as a question, sure, but he’s not asking it. He’s…  _ stating it,  _ like he knows for a fact this is what’s happening. He’s 100% sure of it. His voice is completely monotone, there’s no anger, nothing to indicate that he was upset about it in any way, but Eliott knows Alex. And he knows that the lack of expression, lack of  _ emotion _ , and the way his eyes are narrowed in a blas é squint are telltale signs of displeasure. He’s fed up, annoyed, but almost like... like he  _ knew.  _ Like he isn’t surprised by it because he expected it, and that-- is a way worse feeling than anything Eliott had prepared himself for. 

And yet, “I’m not.”

“Eliott.”

_ “I’m not.”  _

_ “Eliott.  _ Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not having sex with Lucas.” 

And so Eliott does. He untangles his arms, squares his shoulders as he tilts his chin up, takes a deep breath, looks Alex straight in the eye, and says, “I’m not having sex with Lucas.” Because he’s not. He’s with Lucas, they’re together but they’re not actively doing it. Not  _ sex  _ sex, because one mutual hand job the first night they got together and no other sexual interactions after that  _ does not  _ count as the sex that Alex is talking about. It doesn’t. 

The other guy bites the inside of his mouth, shakes his head and lets out a cynical laugh - one that sends a ripple of chills down Eliott’s spine. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least, it makes him feel uneasy, but he guesses if anything, he deserves it. He deserves the firey glare, the vexed purse of lips, and most of all the curt, “You’re a fucking dick,” that his friend spits at him before swinging the door open and slamming it shut, disappearing behind it.

Eliott stays outside for a few moments longer, trying to gather himself - push down the guilt that’s currently flooding every ounce of his body. Alex doesn’t trust him, and that’s understandable. He has a habit of doing questionable things during episodes, things that he wouldn’t do normally, things that jump out at the people who care about him and raise red flags. However, sleeping around is not one of those things. It’s something that he tends to do, yes, but not because he isn’t in the right frame of mind and has no sense of reality or what his actions are. It’s because for the majority of the past times, he was in fact in a relationship with Lucille, and he felt suffocated. Manic or not. 

Constantly being watched, monitored, babied. Every little thing that he did that was even the least bit out of character, had her on fucking guard, and it was  _ so tiring.  _ He just wanted to feel normal, live his life without feeling like he needed a fucking nurse following him around 24/7. Because that’s what it felt like. In the end, it wasn’t much of a relationship at all, it was like he was some sort of patient who needed round-the-clock supervision, and he didn’t want that anymore. So he went out, and he met other people and he did have sex with them. It felt good to be with someone who didn’t know him inside and out, who didn’t know he was fucked in the head and treated him like so. 

Sometimes it was more than that, though. Not just a one night stand, a nameless roll in the hay. Sometimes he met someone who just really made his heart race, and he’d break things off with Lucille in favor of pursuing that. 

And then he’d get scared because he felt like it was getting to the point where he was in too deep, and he’d pull back completely, put it to a stop. And he’d go back to Lucille because even though he felt suffocated, he was also convinced that she was the only one who truly accepted him for who he was, the only one who really knew how to handle him and all of the flaws that he came with. Lucille was safe, she was a constant in the mess that was his entire life. 

The guys,  _ his friends,  _ are somewhat capable of understanding that, but Eliott knows that they don’t fully. He knows that even if they’re his best friends and are always there for him no matter what, in their minds he’s still this asshole who cheats on his girlfriend with numerous people and then breaks their hearts when he gets bored with them. Maybe that is what it is, maybe they see something that he doesn’t. Maybe it is the bipolarity or maybe it’s wholly unrelated to that. 

What he does know for sure though is that that is not what’s happening with Lucas. He’s not having an episode, he’s not acting out, he’s not doing this just to spite Lucille or because Alex told him no, he’s doing it because he genuinely feels for Lucas something that he’s never felt before. But he also knows that given his history, it’s most likely not going to be that easy explaining it to his friends. 

He doesn’t know how long he stayed outside but when he finally treads back inside and to the kitchen, Lucas is already pulling the cake out of the oven and again, Eliott is hit with an overwhelming sense of guilt for being a shitty boyfriend and not helping with the cake, being absent for almost all of it. 

Lucas turns around, his eyes falling on Eliott where he’s stood in the doorway. “Hi,” he smiles kindly, full of warmth, “Did you get his car worked out?” 

“Uh-- yeah, he’s taking care of it.”

He knows it’s not at all the right time for this, but there’s something about the sight of Lucas with oven mitts engulfing his hands as he holds a cake in them that’s just so incredibly adorable to Eliott. It makes his lips split into a fond grin. 

“Come on,” Lucas speaks as he removes the mitts and turns the oven off, walking over to the older guy. He takes his hand, begins guiding him through the house, “We can go back to your room while we wait for that to cool down.”

\--

\--

“So what’s his name?” 

Eliott’s watching his nimble fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt. He smiles as he answers, “Lucas,” because it’s impossible not to when he’s thinking of the younger boy. 

He’s at his parents’ house, sitting on the chairs out front chatting with his mother, even though it’s 40 degrees out. He’s bundled in his thick brown jacket, Lucas’ scarf wrapped securely and warmly around his neck, as his mom rocks in the seat next to him and is swaddled in a fuzzy blanket. He didn’t come here today with the intention of gushing and gossiping about the boy he’s pretty positive he’s going to marry someday, but when his mom had made some innocent comment about how the blue scarf he was wearing complimented his eyes, he couldn’t help but blush. She smiled at him knowingly, invited him on the porch and now here they are. 

“Lucas,” she repeats, testing the name out for herself. “Tell me about him.”

Eliott doesn’t know where to start. Does he tell her about how short he is? How he gets this little disgruntled furrow between his eyebrows when you tell him that? Or how stubbornly far he’s willing to go to prove a point about something he’s extremely adamant about ( _ “But dubstep is good, if you would just try it—” “I will break up with you, Eliott, I’m not kidding.” _ ) How, when he smiles it brightens his entire face? Or how when he laughs you can see it in his whole body? Every part of his being shakes with joy, it’s almost mesmerizing.

Eliott wonders if he should mention how caring Lucas is, how great a listener he is and how he’ll just sit there and let Eliott go on and on and on about something that is probably pretty trivial in the grand scheme of things but it’s important to him in that moment, and so therefore it’s important to Lucas in that moment, too. 

He decides to tell her everything, not leaving out a single detail, because he supposes if he’s going to do it then he might as well do it right. Right? 

He tells her about how he met Lucas through the guys the same night that he got back from traveling. He tells her how the boy wasn’t very fond of him at first (leaving out how much of an arrogant ass Eliott had acted), but that it didn’t take long after that for Eliott to grow on him. He tells her that Lucas is set to graduate at the end of this school year and how he hates school with a passion but he’s so fucking smart and doesn’t even realize it. 

He tells her how every time Eliott sees him, his heart skips a beat inside his chest. How when Lucas glances up at him through his dark lashes and huge blue eyes, it makes him feel like he’s the only other person on the planet, like they were specifically put here for each other and no on else. It makes him feel like everyone else is a mere ant in comparison to what he and Lucas are to each other, how important Lucas is to him and how important he makes Eliott feel. 

“He sounds wonderful, baby.”

Eliott shrugs and bites his lip in a sheepish smile, “He’s alright,” and it pulls a laugh out of his mother that always sparks a deep love inside of him. 

But then the laugh dies and the smile on her face fades, and he can tell by the look in her eyes and sudden seriousness that fills the air that she’s about to ask him something he doesn’t want to be asked - a conversation he could go a fucking day without having. “Have you told him?” 

“I’m going to.” 

“Eliott--” 

“I’m going to, I promise. I don’t--” he swallows, shakes his head and casts his eyes down to the spider crawling on the stoop in front of him. “I don’t think he’ll care, anyways.” He thinks back to the GSA party at Lucas’ apartment, how those girls had been talking about mental illness and how easily it had set him off, how he didn’t hesitate to contradict them, call them stupid and tell them to fuck off for being so ignorant. At the time it had shocked Eliott and he didn’t really know what to think about it at first, overwhelming him so much that he had to excuse himself and take a minute to breathe on his own. 

He’s waffled back and forth with the idea inside his head. One day he thinks he can do it, and then right before he opens his mouth to say it he stops. And doesn’t. And then later he’s grateful that he didn’t, tells himself that it was a good thing he kept quiet because otherwise they might not be as good as they were anymore, there could be a change, a stilt in their interactions that he could have avoided if he waited or just didn’t say anything in the first place. Maybe he’ll do it a different day, or perhaps not at all. Who knows. 

It was only a couple days ago when he came to the conclusion that it was time. Nearly 3 weeks in, he should do something about it before either of them get any more attached than they already are in the event that it turns south; like Lucas deciding he doesn’t want to deal with the crazy, or in case it’s one of those things where you’re okay with it as long as it doesn’t apply to you personally, and then somehow you get yourself tangled up in it and you change your mind, realizing your preach about acceptance was easier said than done. It’s happened before - Eliott’s seen it, he’s been on the receiving end of it. 

He thinks he has enough faith in Lucas though, thinks bigger of the boy than that. 

“I’m-- glad that you  _ think  _ that, baby, but you really can’t just assume--” she cuts herself off when Eliott fixes his gaze on her, and she inhales, exhales, before trying again. “I mean, not everyone is up for it, okay? I’m just telling you to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“Yeah, mom, I got it. Thanks.”

She sighs, and he feels like a dick for snapping but he’s so fucking exhausted with hearing the same things over and over again every time he’s interested in someone.

“I’m gonna go see Mase.” He makes sure to kiss her on the forehead in apology before he goes. 

One thing that’s a surefire way to get him to smile no matter what mood he’s in is his little sister. A single glance at her is enough to make him forget about all of his problems and worries, and as soon as he peeks his head in her room and sees her sprawled out on her floor coloring, he’s filled with instant delight. “Hi, love.” Much like every time he visits, she drops whatever she’s doing and jumps up to greet him, running into his arms. “What are you doing?” 

“Danielle at school has this fairytale coloring book that has all of the princesses in it but she didn’t color Ariel and I asked her why not and she said because she doesn’t  _ like  _ mermaids and I told her that they were my favorite and so she gave it to me so I can finish coloring it.”

Eliott gasps in mock disbelief, he puts a hand up to his chest. “She doesn’t like  _ mermaids?  _ Who doesn’t like mermaids?” 

“She doesn’t think they’re real!” There’s so much fire in her little voice, like she’s totally baffled that someone could even say such a thing. It makes Eliott chuckle. 

“What?” He exclaims, affronted, and his little sister looks pleased with this reaction, so he goes on, “How dare she? Maisie, you know that she’s wrong, right?” 

She squints her eyes at him as if to say,  _ are you dumb?  _ “Of course I know she’s wrong, Eliott, I’ve seen one with my own eyes before.”

“Oh you have, have you?” 

Maisie stops, bounces back an inch as she sucks in a big breath and looks at him with wide eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she whispers to him conspiratorially, “You have to keep it a secret, okay?” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” he pinches his fingers to his closed mouth and twists it like a lock, “Safe with me.” There was no way he was going to bale on the pinky promise she made him do afterwards. 

He hangs out with her in her room for about 30 more minutes, even lays down to color with her too, and then their mom is yelling up the stairs that dinner is ready so they make their way down. Afterwards he stays for a movie, basks in the way Maisie tucks herself into his side and falls asleep before the film ends. When his mom goes to wake her up, Eliott stops her, picks her up and carries her to bed. He tucks her in, murmurs into her ear that he loves her, and kisses her on the cheek. He leaves soon after that, hugging his parents goodbye and avoiding anymore conversation about what he and his mother had discussed earlier. 

When he gets back to the fraternity he manages to slip in without much interaction with anyone else. He passes by Alex and Sofiane’s room, but he only sees the latter. For a second he stands outside the door, contemplates just continuing his treck to his own room and ignoring the issue for another night in a row, but it’s been 3 days now since he last spoke to Alex and he doesn’t want to wait any longer before resolving it. 

Knocking on the door once, he chooses not to wait for a response before he slips his head through the crack and asks, “Hey, Sof? Where’s Alex?” 

“In the back I think, why?” 

Eliott shakes his head casually, “Just wanted to talk to him.”

“About Lucas?” When Eliott doesn’t answer, he says, “Good, the awkward tension was getting annoying.” Eliott rolls his eyes and slips back out to find his other friend. He sees Alex pacing the backyard as he talks to someone on the phone, presumably Ana, and when he spots Eliott it isn’t long after that before he’s blowing a kiss to the bottom of his screen and hanging up. “What’s up?”

At this point Eliott isn’t keen on beating around the bush, and he knows Alex certainly isn’t either, so he gets straight to it. “I’m not having an episode.” 

His friend furrows his eyebrows, gives him a confused look. “Okay?” 

“And Lucas isn’t some random guy that I’m interested in until I find someone else or decide to go back to Lucille. He’s not a wimb, I’m not just fucking around with him, and this isn’t some  _ want what I can’t have  _ bullshit. I care about him.” 

Alex considers him, stays quiet as he flips his phone in his hand. 

“And… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Eliott adds. 

“I don’t care that you lied to me, bro. Just don’t do anything shitty to him, okay? He’s had enough assholes ruining his day to last him a lifetime.”

He’d never even dream of it. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to worry about that, I swear, I’m-- I’m really serious about this. And I’m not gonna screw him over like James did, either. That guy’s a prick.”

Alex snorts bitterly, “He’s more than a prick. He deserves to get his ass kicked for everything he’s put Lucas through. But Lu won’t ever let us do anything, you know how he is.” Eliott hums in agreement, like he does know, but truthfully he doesn’t. He’s never had to be in this situation with Lucas and the boy doesn’t really like to talk about it, so Eliott doesn’t push. That’s not to say he isn’t curious, though. “And even now with the texts starting back up he refuses to let us find the guy ourselves so we can tell him to fuck off. He says it’ll only make it worse.” 

“Texts?” 

Alex nods, continuing, “Yeah, from James. I know they bother Lucas, they bother me, too. Make me fucking nervous, I can only imagine how they make him feel.” At Eliott’s obvious confusion, Alex inquires, “You didn’t know?” 

Eliott shakes his head; no, he didn’t know. 

“Shit, dude, he didn’t tell you? Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Eliott doesn’t respond, just forces a small smile like  _ it’s okay,  _ because he isn’t entitled to know Lucas’ business, he’s lucky to know as much of it as he does. Lucas doesn’t have to tell him anything. But still, it stings a little to think maybe it was because he didn’t trust Eliott to tell him, maybe he isn’t comfortable enough, isn’t there yet. Which is okay, of course, but...

“It’s getting late, I should probably turn in. Big test tomorrow.”

“Yeah of course, man,” Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Lucas is fine, you know? He can handle his own for sure, that’s just me being overprotective. It’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah.”

It’s not until he’s upstairs and sitting on the corner of his bed, running fingers through his hair tiredly that he pulls out his phone and sees two missed texts from the high schooler himself. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Have you already left your parents’? _

_ Miss you _

**_srodulv_ **

_ I miss you.  _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ Sneak in? _

Eliott can’t stop the curve of his lips as he types out,  _ be there in 15.  _

\--

\--

Lucas is already waiting for him when Eliott finishes climbing the stairs to his apartment. He’s standing against the doorframe with his hands clasped behind his back, the smile on his face only growing wider the closer Eliott gets. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

It’s 23h, and sneaking into Lucas’ apartment after his mom resigns herself to her room for the rest of the night has become somewhat a routine now. Lucas will text him, ask him to come over and some nights they sit out on the steps in front of the apartment, huddled together to fight the chillness of the night until the boy is so tired he’s slurring his words and then Eliott will walk him upstairs, kiss him goodnight, and then leave. A couple of times Lucas met him at his car and they went for a midnight snack at some 24 hour drive thru, settling in the parking lot, chatting and laughing or making out in the dark like the cliche teenagers they are before Eliott drove him home. Other times, like tonight, Lucas will sneak him in and they’ll hole up in the confines of the Lallemant’s room, maybe watch a movie on his laptop, maybe share stories of their childhoods or secrets from their pasts, or maybe they’ll just lie there with each other in silence, enjoying the company and the warmth of having another person there to care for and hold. 

Eliott can do any of those things right now. He doesn’t care, he just likes being in the same place as Lucas, likes to be able to see him, likes to be able to reach out and touch him if he wants to. Whether it’s a slight dance of fingers on his hand or down his spine, or full on pressed up against him, it doesn’t matter. 

Tonight, it’s not that he’s feeling particularly sentimental, or affectionate, or--  _ touchy,  _ not anymore so than he usually is, but for some reason when his eyes set on Lucas for the first time all day, he has this massively overwhelming urge to just wrap his arms around the smaller boy’s frame. And that’s what he does. He steps forward, never breaking their eye contact until he’s absolutely forced to by their closeness. Arms snaked around Lucas’ shoulders, he takes a deep inhale, breathes him in. He can’t say if it’s the conversation that he had with his mother earlier, or his chat with Alex not 30 minutes ago, but all he knows is that he can’t imagine not being here right now. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas whispers, and his breath is hot on Eliott’s neck from where his head is buried. It tickles a little, but neither of them move. 

“Yes,” he responds, only to tighten his grip. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

They stand there for a few more moments, and Eliott knows that Lucas must be cold -- he  _ has  _ to be, there’s no way, so he pulls back and releases the hold he has, but only after placing a soft, but oh so loving kiss on his temple. “Let’s go inside.”

Lucas’ sheets are cold when they first crawl into them, but there’s enough body heat between the two of them to balance it out, even if only for a couple of seconds. It’s natural in the way they mold into each other; silent but mutual as Lucas lies his head down on the pillow and immediately pulls Eliott into him. The older boy rests his head on the younger’s chest, can feel the tuffs his hair rubbing against Lucas’ chin. There are gentle fingers tracing lines up and down and his back, light touches that leave sparks of electricity with every inch they cover. 

Several minutes, nothing but quietness, save for the beating of Lucas’ heart right under Eliott’s ear, and the sound of their breathing but it’s almost inaudible. He licks his lips. “Hey, Lucas?” 

“Hm?” 

“...Do you still hear from James?” 

The chest beneath him that’s been steadily rising up and down since they first laid down, freezes; the fingers on his back halting their movements as well. He can hear Lucas’ heartbeat thumping faster, a vast difference in speed than what it was only 6 seconds ago, before any mention of his ex. Eventually he chokes out a rough, “Why do you ask?” 

“I was just wondering, you don’t really talk about him.” 

“There’s not a lot to talk about.” 

Eliott knows this isn’t true, and he doesn’t want to prod, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Or maybe he isn’t making much of an effort to. “You mean you don’t like to.” It’s not an accusation, and he hopes it doesn’t come off that way, he just meant it as an observation. 

“No, not that much.” 

“Does he contact you?” 

A pause, and then, “Eliott, if there’s something you want to know then just ask it.” So Eliott sits up, turns around to where he’s facing Lucas, can look him in the eyes, and he leans back on his haunches. 

“I was talking to Alex, he let it slip you were getting text messages.” He mutters it like he’s ashamed, and maybe he is, maybe he feels bad that he heard this from someone else instead of Lucas himself at the right time. Maybe he’s embarrassed that he couldn’t wait for that to actually happen, just keep quiet about it and act like he never heard anything in the first place. He isn’t proud of the fact that his curiosity is getting the best of him, or that he’ll allow himself to use concern as an excuse. He  _ is  _ concerned, he  _ is  _ worried and he does feel a sense of protectiveness over Lucas, of course, but his respect for boundaries and Lucas being able to share things  _ on his own and when he’s ready  _ should be enough to overcome everything else. Especially when Eliott has his own shit and issues that he isn’t ready to talk about himself. He should know. 

Lucas isn’t looking at him, isn’t saying anything, hasn’t even opened his mouth to  _ try.  _ He just-- his brows are crinkled together and there’s a deep, almost angry looking line between them. “Why were you talking to Alex about it?” He’s sat up now too, but his knees are pushed up in front of him, folded to his body and Eliott can  _ see  _ the shield come up to cover him, he can see the guard raising and Lucas detaching himself, pulling back emotionally and closing himself off. 

“I-I wasn’t, not really, it just came up, there wasn’t--” he takes a break to swallow, “He didn’t mean to say anything.” He doesn’t want Lucas to distance himself and hide under some metaphorical rock just to escape this topic because Eliott knows how that feels, he knows better than anyone how it feels to want to do that; to long for some type of  _ freedom.  _ Freedom of the burdens carried upon your shoulders, freedom of  _ that one thing  _ that’s holding you back, freedom of everyone hectoring you and nagging you about talking and opening up. Just-- freedom. To be able to breathe without anymore restrictions. 

“Look, I’m sorry for pushing - it’s not my place, I know that. And I didn’t mean to upset you, that’s--  _ the last  _ thing I wanted to do, I just… I don’t know, I want you to know that you can talk to me, that’s all.”

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Lucas looks up at him and just that tiny action makes Eliott feel a million times lighter. He gives a small, reassuring smile and his hands ache to reach out but somehow he gains control of himself and refrains. When Lucas speaks it’s low and weighty, yet fragile and shaky. 

“He’s not a bad person.” Eliott stays silent, let’s him go about this at his own pace. “James, he’s not a bad person, he just got mixed into bad things. His heart is there, he’s just-- he’s struggling right now, and  _ has been  _ for the majority of our relationship, and he has fucked up, yes, but that’s not who he is. Whatever everyone sees is just this illness that he has, something that’s gotten the better of him, he’s not-- I promise he’s not that asshole, not really. He’s a good guy.” 

“Lucas, you don’t have to defend him.”

“Yes I do! Yes I do.” 

“Lucas--” 

“I’m not defending his actions, okay? He hurt me a lot, a-and I’m still terrified of him, and he’s done a lot of terrible things and at some point you have to stop using the drugs as an excuse, I get that, and I’m not making excuses for him, but-- I still care about him because I  _ know him  _ and I know that he’s better than this, okay? He’s-- he’s not a shitty person, Eliott, I swear--” at this point he’s crying so much he can barely get the words out, and it pains Eliott to see it so he crawls forward and tugs, and Lucas falls willingly into his arms. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers into his hair, “It’s okay.”

“He’s not a bad person.” He repeats that, over and over again, like it’s on a loop inside his mind, like he physically can’t stop. And Eliott holds him the entire time, listens to him, lets him say it, but continues to reassure.

“It’s okay.”


	11. Casualty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casualty - Lawrence
> 
> as always, thanks to confusedconnor for editing & being a huge help

Lucas doesn’t like opening up about James because he knows that it’s not something a lot of people will understand. All they hear is “drug addict” and their minds are made up. They don’t understand that it’s so much more than that; like heartbreak and betrayal, loss, grievance - whether death or just the person that you once knew. They don’t understand that when someone you love with every fucking particle of your being is going through this super horrible shit that’s happening to them, it’s hard to just drop it and not care, even though, ultimately, that’s often times the best thing for you to do. 

For a lot of people though, Lucas being one of them, there’s a process; steps you go through before getting to that point. He can’t say that his situation in particular is the same as other’s, but for him it went like this : first, there was the shock that came with the initial realization of what was happening. He knew that James did  _ drugs,  _ but as far as he knew it was just the normal shit like pot, the occasional acid. Nothing that Lucas hadn’t tried himself, nothing they hadn’t done  _ together.  _ Granted, there were a few things that James did that Lucas didn’t want to, he had no desire to, but James was a “try everything at least once” type of guy. It was because of that that Lucas had  _ thought  _ he’d seen James in every state of being high that there was; the silliness, the tiredness, the calmness, the good trips, the few bad trips, the paranoia, the hallucinations, the deep sleeps afterwards and disorientation when he woke up. Lucas saw him coming down, he saw the dip in his mood when he had pot one day but couldn’t get it the next. 

And then one night, when he was staying at James’, he was woken up in the middle of the night by the front door slamming shut. When he went out into the living room James was there, just coming in from somewhere and when Lucas had asked where he’d been, the response he got was, “Do we have anything to drink? I’m fucking thirsty,” before the refrigerator was being raided and he downed 3 bottles of Gatorade in 3 minutes. “Let’s watch a movie, do you want to watch a movie?” 

“It’s 2 am. I have school in the morning.” 

James whipped his head around, a huge grin on his face as he stalked over to his boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around Lucas’ shoulders, hugged him tightly. “I fucking love you, you know that?” From their position, Lucas’ head pressed into James’ upper torso, he could feel the guy’s heart beating against his chest, could hear the pounding, the way it was racing. He could feel the heaviness of it, how hard the guy was breathing in and out. It made Lucas uneasy, he could tell something wasn’t right. This was… different. The facial expressions, the overenthusiasm, the way he couldn’t stand still. He was loud, kind of obnoxious. 

“Maybe we should get some sleep, hm?” Lucas suggested softly, not wanting to sound like he was mother-henning. 

“Not tired. Let’s play hookie tomorrow .” 

“I… can’t, I have that big exam, remember?”

James hopped up on the counter, his left leg vibrating. “Have you ever thought about just quitting?” It made Lucas narrow his eyes, his gaze flicking back and forth between the jittery leg and the look on James’ face - simultaneously deep in thought but unfocused, far away. “What, school?” 

“Yeah, you don’t really need it. It’s not teaching you anything. If you did that we could spend more time together, watch more movies,” he winked. “We’d have time to watch all of your favorite movies, and we could watch them every day. Would you want to watch  _ The Sixth Sense  _ everyday?” Lucas couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, just talking out of his ass because he was so high. Maybe it was just some strain that he’d tried and it was just having a weird effect on him. “I think it’d be cool to see ghosts, don’t you? You could talk to different dead people everyday. I would talk to Jimi Hendrix and find out how he really died. Do you think the 27 club is real, Lucas? Or do you think it’s just a myth?” 

Lucas was quiet, trying to sort out what the fuck was happening. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you I was psychic?” It caused Lucas to pause, and James noted it. He smiled, continuing, “I think I am. But I can’t talk to ghosts or anything like that, I-- I think I can predict things, Lucas. I can see shit before it happens. And sometimes I can, like, teleport, too… I think. I can close my eyes and be one place, and then open them back up and be somewhere different. It’s happened a few times, I’d like to test it out more, would you help me?” 

“James, what--” 

“Shit,” he hops off the counter, stumbling past Lucas and spitting out a quick, “I think I left my phone at Victor’s, I’ll be back,” and then he’s out the door before Lucas can even process it. After that it got progressively worse. He was out a lot more, not really spending much time at his apartment. He ate less, slept less, could never stay still for too many minutes. Dark circles under his eyes, he was losing weight, his face was breaking out. It was getting easier and easier to make him upset, he was constantly looking like he was exhausted but would never fucking rest, and when he finally did it would be for 2 or 3 days before he got out of bed, or even just cracked his eyes open, and then afterwards he’d be gone again, disappeared.

It wasn’t long after that that Lucas got fed up, started looking for his own answers. Truthfully, he should have done it sooner but he thinks he was too scared about what he’d find. And then he did find something and it was this weird mix of being in complete and utter shock, but also not at all. Like, he knew it was coming, he knew there was something, he knew he wasn’t going to like it, so he was able to prepare himself for  _ something.  _ And yet, it doesn’t seem like there was anything in the entire world that could have stopped his heart from dropping into his stomach, or from instantly feeling like he could throw up everything inside of him. It was almost like he got hit by a truck, but instead of it happening abruptly and out of nowhere, he knew it was coming and still stepped in front of it anyways. 

The same could be said for the rest of their relationship because from then on there were multiple outlets and multiple reasons for him  _ to  _ leave and he just-- didn’t. He had this extremely, stupidly naive and irrational notion inside his head that he could actually  _ help James,  _ that he could save him. That, maybe, if he acted fast there was still hope that this didn’t ruin their relationship, didn’t ruin everything James was as a person, didn’t affect every single aspect of their lives. He thought that there could be this tiny sliver - however small - of a chance that this was something they could come back from, James especially. 

And then… it wasn’t. James continued to get worse and worse, continued to fall deeper and deeper, succumbing to the dark power of addiction and allowing it to consume him, only, that’s where Lucas was wrong; the “allowing it to happen” shit, like it was a choice. No one  _ wants  _ to be addicted, no one  _ enjoys  _ it. Drug addiction isn’t constantly partying and having a good time doing whatever you want without thinking of the consequences. Eventually it becomes a chore. Because you’ve gotten so used to it, it’s become so normal to you that you can’t remember how you could have possibly functioned without it. 

At least, this is how James describes it. He said it was at the point where he felt sick without it, like he had the flu except so much worse, and the drugs were his only medicine, his only cure, the only way to make him feel better. Except, even after he took them he still felt like shit. He always felt like shit. The drugs just… somehow seemed to justify that. 

Lucas could see all of this, and that’s why he insists on defending James, even with all of the fucked up shit that’s happened. Because he knows that somewhere in there, deep down beneath the dependency and the illness and the inability to latch onto something stronger than the cravings, there is guilt. There’s guilt, shame, regret, and self hatred. There’s a  _ want  _ to be better, a self awareness that something’s got to change, but he’s just-- not there yet. Not strong enough for it, Lucas guesses. He’s not fully reached the acceptance that he  _ can  _ do it. Or maybe he just hasn’t found his will yet, his reason for doing it. He’s given up on himself, Lucas knows that, and this is only going to work if he’s doing it for himself, no one else.

Lucas wants that for James. God, does he want it. He wants him to get better, grow stronger and realize that there’s more to life, that everything is actually worth it, that he’s not alone and he hasn’t completely fucked himself - he still has people there for him. 

But that’s where Lucas is most conflicted. Because  _ he’s  _ one of those people,  _ he  _ has hope and  _ he  _ believes that it can happen,  _ he  _ believes it’s possible, but he also vowed to himself that he was out. He wasn’t going to get involved, he wasn’t going to put himself in any sort of situation that could potentially put him in danger. When he left James, he left for good. He knew it was an unhealthy relationship, he knew he deserved better than to be a baby sitter for his drug addict boyfriend, to be the one who gets the absolute brunt of it when James gets pissed off, to get blamed for every fucking thing. He deserved better than the incessant badgering for money, the threats whispered into his ear when he refused, the being thrown to the ground or up against the wall; getting choked out or head butted. He deserved better than all of it. He wasn’t going to be a punching bag anymore, whether physical or emotional. 

So he got himself out of it and  _ he’s happy  _ that he did. He doesn’t regret it for a single second. However, there is a fairly large part of him that still loves James. Not romantically, not like he’s  _ in  _ love with James, it’s more-- familial. He cares about him, but he’d never,  _ ever  _ get involved with him again. No, Lucas wants to forgive, he doesn’t want to be held back by this, he wants to move on. And he’s going to do that either way, whether James recovers or not, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t still hope for the best for his ex. 

When he tries to explain this all to Eliott, he’s expecting to be told that he was too gullible, too ingenuous, that he was so innocently stupid that it was going to get him in a lot of trouble. He was expecting to have been looked at with nothing but confusion, maybe some pity too, to have to do a whole lot more convincing. But no. Eliott didn’t tell him that it was dumb, he didn’t tell him that people don’t change so it was pointless for Lucas to expect them to, he didn’t tell him that James didn’t deserve forgiveness. He was admittedly confused, yes, and there was more anger than anything, but there was also an understanding, an attempt to see where Lucas was coming from. It made Lucas feel better about it. 

“Have you told your friends about it?” Eliott asks him as they’re lying in Lucas’ bed. Well, Lucas is lying. His feet are propped up on the headboard and the upper half of his body is on the mattress. Eliott’s sitting sideways on the bed, his back pressed against the wall and his legs spread straight out above Lucas’ head. The only part of them touching is their hands, Lucas is holding Eliott’s in both of his, fiddling with his fingers resting on his chest. It’s a nice position for him because he doesn’t think he would have easily been able to pour out his deepest and darkest secrets about James to Eliott as he was, had they been facing each other and making eye contact. He’s not incredibly fond of how weak he feels admitting out loud that he allowed himself to be pushed around so much, physically and otherwise, for that long of time. 

“Yann and them? No.”

“Why?” 

It’s a good question. One that Lucas isn’t one hundred percent sure of the answer to. At first it was because he didn’t want to bother them with his bullshit; everyone else had their own shit to worry about it, they didn’t need Lucas to pile his problems with his drug addicted boyfriend on to them. He felt like he could deal with it himself, and if it got  _ too  _ terribly awful, then maybe he’d enlighten them, but it never got to that point. Not in his opinion, at least. He didn’t even want Alex and those guys to know - that was purely just chance. If it were up to him, no one would know because it shouldn’t be any of their problems. Now it’s just been too long since everything had happened that Lucas doesn’t really feel like it’s relevant anymore. Not to the extent that everyone is wanting him to share. 

“Lucas, your friends care about you, you know. You’re not going to burden them. This is important, it’s a big deal. They’d want to know.” 

Lucas bites his lip, staring at Eliott’s hand in front of him. His own fingers softly card across the skin on the other’s wrist, gripping it gently. “I will if it gets to be a problem again.” 

He doesn’t have to be looking at Eliott to see the way his eyes are bugging out of his head right now. “Is it not already?? He’s still texting you, no?” Lucas nods, slightly ashamed. “How long before it’s not just texts anymore? What if he starts coming back to your work? Or fuck, shows up here?” Lucas knows he’s right, and there have already been multiple occasions where he was worried those  _ were  _ the cases, but fortunately it’s not at that point yet.

_ Un _ fortunately, one of these days he might not be so lucky to have Alex or anyone else around him at the time that it does happen. 

He knows Eliott’s thinking the same thing, just isn’t going to say it, speak it into existence. Lucas will, though. 

“What are they going to do if that does happen? Just because they know doesn’t mean they’re gonna be there for it. I can’t be protected at every fucking minute.” And he’s right, he knows he’s right. What are they going to do? 

“Well, maybe--”

“No, Eliott,” Lucas sits up, puts his weight on his arms as he turns halfway around to peer at the older guy. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell them in the first place. I’m not a baby, I don’t need to be treated like one. I can take care of myself.” He throws his legs over the other side of the bed, rests his feet on the floor and runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to relieve some of his stress. It doesn’t help like he wants it to, but he knew that already. 

He hears Eliott sigh, and then the bed shifts and he can feel weight behind him before there’s a hand rubbing soothingly over his shoulder, another attempt at relieving the stress, only this time it actually works, even if only a small amount. 

“I know you can, and they know that too. Give them a little more credit than you do, eh?” 

Lucas shakes his head, he knows Eliott is right. “Yeah.”

At this point it’s probably around 2 in the morning, if not nearing 3, and both of them have class tomorrow, and just thinking about it causes a yawn to escape Lucas’ mouth before he can catch it. “Come on,” Eliott voices, “Lets get some rest.”

And Lucas repeats, “Yeah.”

It’s not until about 20 minutes later, give or take, when all of the lights are off and they’ve been laying in silence for the majority of it, when Lucas is just on the verge of dozing off and he hears a faint and hesitant, “Lu?” He hums because it’s about the only thing he can muster right now. Eliott doesn’t say anything for a few more moments, and if it weren’t for the unevenness of his breaths Lucas would have assumed he fell asleep. But then,

“I’m bipolar.”

It makes Lucas pause, his eyes snapping open and his breath hitching in his throat, but only for a short second before he’s rolling over to where Eliott’s lying flat on his back, most likely staring up into the blackness of the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs anxiously, and Lucas wraps an arm around his neck, placing his hand in Eliott’s hair, his own head settling in the crook of Eliott’s neck. “Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“Telling me,” Lucas says. 

“Y-you don’t care?” 

Eliott hasn’t moved, both of his hands remaining where they were, but Lucas can feel the pulse of his heartbeat from where his arm is resting. “Why would I care?” 

“I… don’t know, I figured it would change things…” There’s clear vulnerability in his words, fear and distress, and it makes Lucas ache on the inside thinking about how many people Eliott’s opened up to about this and been immediately let down. 

“Eliott,” he tries, the hand he has in the guy’s hair petting comfortingly. “You’re still the same person you were before you told me, it’s not going to affect my opinion of you.” 

“Not yet, maybe…”

“Not  _ ever. _ ” Even though it’s pitch black and neither of them can see anything, Lucas still glances up with a cocked eyebrow at his boyfriend. 

“You can’t say that.”

“Why? Because I haven’t seen the full extent of it? I promise you Eliott, I don’t scare easily. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me. Obviously.” The last part was Lucas’ attempt at lightening the mood, a jab at the hell he went through with James, and he chuckles at himself, even though he knows this isn’t the right time for jokes. 

Clearly, Eliott feels the same. “That’s not funny, Lucas.” And no, it’s not, he knows that, but if he can’t joke about it, then what?

“I’m sorry, I just-- I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, no matter how bad it gets. We’re in this together now.” He can feel Eliott nod slowly, the barest of movements but it’s there. “Hey,” Lucas murmurs, and Eliott’s head shifts an inch towards him. “I’m proud of you.” And he means it with everything in him. 

This doesn’t change a thing.

\--

\--

6 months. Lucas has been working at the cafe for 6 months now, and  _ not once  _ has a Saturday passed where Mr. Claude didn’t show up. Normally, he comes in at 8, and normally, Lucas or whoever else is working can have his order ready for him because they expect him to be there. Today, when the clock struck 8 and Mr. Claude didn’t come ambling through the doors with his grey flat cap and black propet walkers, Lucas questioned it but figured maybe he just wasn’t feeling up to it today. Perhaps he was sick, perhaps he was bored with it, perhaps he had visitors and couldn’t make it. 

Or perhaps he was just late. 

Then 9 o’clock rolled around, and 10, 11, 12, and no sign of Mr. Claude. Lucas grew suspicious but tried not to think the absolute worst. Literally anything could have happened, good or bad. When Alex comes in Lucas asks if he had seen Mr. Claude the day before, Alex says no. “Actually, I don’t think he’s been in all week.” Now, Lucas allows himself to worry. “He’s probably fine, dude. Lots of regulars miss a few days.” 

“A week all at once? After over an entire year?” 

Alex shrugs, wraps his apron around his waist and gets to work. The lunch rush hits around the same time so Lucas is forced to forget about it so that he can focus on everything else. He moves it to the back of his mind and figures there’s not really anything he can do about it, because he doesn’t really know anything about Mr. Claude in the first place. 

At 3 o’clock he’s about to fall over exhausted. Only one more hour and he’s free to go home. He’s slumped against the counter, bored out of his fucking mind because now that the busyness is over he has nothing to do but just wait for his next customer, and he’s possibly about to fall asleep right where he’s standing when someone rings the bell by his head. It’s a loud ding, one that’s  _ certainly  _ not necessary, especially when he’s right fucking there, so he swings his head up with intent, his lips pursed and eyebrow raised with attitude, but instantly softens when he sees the kind face of his best friends. 

Of course, he’ll never give them the satisfaction of knowing how happy their presence is to him, so he keeps the grumpy façade up and squints his eyes at Yann’s smirking face. “I’m allowed to refuse service.” 

“You can’t refuse anything when it comes to this,” Yann points up at himself cockily and Lucas rolls his eyes. It’s true. 

“You gonna order something or are you just gonna stand here and waste my time?” 

“That is  _ not  _ how you treat a customer, Lulu,” Emma replies from where she’s standing behind Yann. Imane and Manon are there too, the 4 of them, and Lucas is going to save the teasing about Yann chilling with the girls for another time when he knows all 3 of them could very easily destroy him with a few words, Imane with only a glance. 

He rolls his eyes again, and can hear Alex snickering from somewhere off to his side. He subtly throws his hand up, flicking his friend off but making sure the rest of the patrons, the more  _ decent and tolerable ones  _ can’t see him. “So, your order?” 

“Hm...” Emma contemplates, staring up at the menu above Lucas, and for fucks sake he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time since they got here. “I’ll have uh…” Lucas bites the side of his lip to hold back a laugh because  _ Christ  _ his friends are fucking annoying. “No, actually I think I’ll take a...” if she keeps trailing off like that Lucas thinks he might lose his mind. 

“How about I just surprise you, hm?” 

Emma eyes him skeptically, “How do I know you aren’t going to poison me?” 

“It’s  _ Lucas,”  _ Imane teases, and Lucas fixes a glare on her because there’s no way in hell she meant that like,  _ it’s Lucas he’s too nice for that.  _ As much as he’d prefer that over the implication that he’s too dumb to poison someone. 

Imane and Manon give off their orders, Emma deciding to allow Lucas to pick for her, and as they all head to find a table Lucas pulls Yann back to ask, “Are you free sometime? I… I have to talk to you about something…” 

At his tentativeness, Yann furrows his brows worriedly, his expression turning serious. “Yeah, dude. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, I just-- I don’t know, we haven’t really spent one on one time in a while.” 

The smugness is back and Yann cocks his lips into a pleased grin. “You miss me.” 

“Shut up.”

“Lulu fucking misses me.” 

_ “Fuck off.”  _

His friend reaches across the counter to ruffle Lucas’ hair. “Yeah, man. We can do something tomorrow if you want.” Despite the razzing, Lucas smiles, happy. 

He agrees, “Okay, cool.” 

\--

\--

Lucas leisurely makes his way up his apartment steps, texting Eliott as he does so but Eliott’s always so fucking distracting so it takes longer than it should. He smiles at his phone, one foot above on the step and he leans his body into the wall.

**_srodulv_ **

_ R u lost cuz it’s taking a really long time _

**_lucallemant_ **

_ i’m stopping for clothes  _

**_srodulv_ **

_ You can wear mine _

_ Or none ;) _

_ Not that I have a preference, you look great either way :) _

_ (but the latter doesn’t sound so bad js) _

Lucas laughs out loud and shakes his head.  _ Idiot.  _

He’s typing out a reply when he gets to the top of the stairs on his floor, but a shadow peeking from behind his phone catches his eye and he looks up. For a moment it feels like everything is suddenly slow motion, even though he’s not moving. He’s positive he’s not moving because he  _ can’t.  _ He’s frozen in his fucking spot, feet glued to the ground and his legs are locked. Fingers lose all capability of working and he drops his phone flat on the concrete, but even that isn’t enough to knock him out of his stupor. 

He’s aware of exactly 3 things right now. 1, the fact that he can’t move. He can simultaneously feel nothing in his body at all, like everything is completely numb, but everything is also extremely heavy and he has no idea how he’s holding himself up right now.  2, the rapidness of his heartbeat. It feels like it could beat right out of his fucking chest, out of sight and never to be seen again.  _ Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.  _ It’s loud and it’s rough and he can feel it pulsing in his cheeks, can hear it in his ears. Like the rest of the world is on mute, he can’t hear anything except for the racing of his damn ticker. 

It’s the third thing that’s what’s really getting him. He has to blink a few times, make sure he’s really seeing what he thinks he’s seeing because  _ this can’t fucking be.  _ He swallows thickly, noting how dry his mouth is what with the way it’s currently hung open. 

_ Months  _ have gone by. So many fucking weeks, so much time for him to get over this fucking fear that he feels, and the guilt and the heartache and the  _ everything.  _ He had thought he’d gotten over this, that no matter how scared he feels with a text, or the dread he feels when he remembers all that’s happened, or the regret that fills his insides when he thinks about everything he could have done differently, everything he could have done to  _ help more than he did,  _ that maybe it would be different the first time that he saw James again; that maybe he wouldn’t still feel so fucking weak. So little. 

But no, nothing has changed, it continues to feel like he’s in this never ending fall. Like, his stomach is all twisted and he just keeps going down and down, expecting to crash into the ground at some point but it never comes, he’s just going and going and  _ going  _ and he never knows when he’s going to hit so he just has to keep his eyes screwed shut and pray it happens quick and painless. 

And he doesn’t know what’s worse; how weak he feels, or how weak James looks. He’s dirty and greasy, the circles under his eyes are dark and purple. His skin is blotchy, sores all over his face, and Lucas is still a good 5 feet away but can smell him from here. He doesn’t look homeless or anything, not like he’s been living on the streets. His clothes aren’t torn, the fabric isn’t stained and ridden in holes. He does however, look like he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days, and somehow Lucas knows it’s not for lack of opportunity, but more for lack of hunger. 

He… thinks that he should feel some sort of triumph when he takes in James’ appearance. Something like,  _ you treated me super shitty and now it’s finally come back around to bite you.  _ He doesn’t feel like that. In fact, this hurts him just as much. 

James stands up, wobbles on his feet as he uses the door for support. Neither of them had said anything, and whereas Lucas is still stunned in place and can’t seem to take his eyes off of the other person, James can’t seem to look at anything other than the concrete ground. 

“What are you doing here?” He’s surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It’s not shaky, not scratchy or unclear, it doesn’t give away how much he’s fucking freaking out on the inside. 

James bites the corner of his lip, his head still pointed down, hand shoved in his pockets. “You weren’t answering your phone.” Lucas huffs a bitter breath out of his nose as his face morphs into a sneer.  _ Seriously?  _ “I--” James clears his throat, “I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I’m not giving you any money.” 

“I wasn’t-- that’s not what I’m here for.” 

“Then what?”

He’s quiet, brings a hand up to scratch at his throat. “I need your help.”

“I already told you, I’m not--” 

“This is different, Lucas, I swear, it’s fucking different.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes impatiently and crosses his arms over his chest. His phone vibrates at his feet but he doesn’t look at it, he barely even acknowledges it. James continues, “Look you know me, okay? Better than anyone, and you’re the only person that I feel like I can really come to about this, and-- and know that it’s going to be okay, you know? I-- you just make me feel hopeful, and--”

“James.” Lucas cuts in, because as good as this sounds, it’s not what he wants to hear. “What are you doing here.” 

“...I don’t wanna do this anymore, Lu, I can’t.” 

“Do what?” 

“ _ This!  _ This-- lifestyle, fucking everything up, I-- I can’t anymore, I can’t fucking keep doing this, I’m tired and I just-- I want to stop.” 

It’s important for Lucas to keep his composure right now and not give in. It’s  _ so  _ fucking important. Words he was dying to hear when they were together, words that he wants to feel joy about right now because this-- this  _ is it,  _ right? This is what he’s been wanting for ages now and has thought about happening before more times than he can count. Words that he never thought would come but was always hoping they would. 

But James is an addict, and addicts are liars and you can’t believe anything they say, you can’t take anything to heart. Not when they tell you they’re sorry and fucked up and will never do it again, and not when they tell you that they hate you and wish the worst upon you. Even with the broken voice and raw emotion and the cracking of his words. Even with the tears that are so clearly dripping down his cheek and threatening to drip down Lucas’ as well. And even with the suffering and agony and  _ pleading  _ when Lucas looks into his eyes for the first time and convinces himself that this is serious, completely genuine and truthful shit that he’s seeing.

It’s hard for him when he has to steel himself, take a silent inhale and convey with false impassiveness, “So what do you think  _ I’m _ going to do about it?” He doesn’t like how taken aback James looks in response to this. 

“I-- I don’t know, I thought maybe you could--”

“James, we’re not together anymore. It’s not my responsibility to take care of you, or to help you deal with whatever it is you’re going through. I tried to do that before and you pushed me away, so I can’t-- I’m not doing this with you again.” 

_ It’s better this way,  _ Lucas repeats to himself inside his head.  _ It’s better for both of you.  _

James takes a hesitant step forward, Lucas takes one back. “Look I know I fucked up, and I hurt you--” he starts, but Lucas cuts in. 

“When?” 

“What?”

“When did you hurt me? Which time are you talking about?” 

He’s silent, looks off to the side, lost. “I--” 

“Because a couple of times come to mind for me. A  _ few.”  _ Still silent, back to staring at the ground, only this time he looks more contrite than before,  _ shameful.  _ It… brings a small amount of satisfaction to Lucas, but mostly he just wants to get this over with. “So which time?” It’s unsurprising when he’s met with yet again more silence. 

A little lower this time, more gently, Lucas adds, “I’m happy that you want to change and that you’re reaching out, J, but I’m not the person for this. I forgive you for everything, if that’s what you need, but that’s it. You have to find someone else to put all your trust into because it’s not going to be me.”

To be honest, this is every bit as hard as Lucas had ever imagined it to be, but he’s proud of himself, really. He didn’t think he could do it,  _ say no.  _ But he did it, and he kept himself together the entire time. Through the heartbroken but sadly understanding look on James’ face, the way he walked with heavy footsteps past Lucas and down the hall, and even when he turned around for one second, mumbled a dismal, last attempt at an apology and then scurried down the steps.

Lucas never made it inside for clothes though, because as soon as he felt like he was in the clear and James was gone, he took off to Eliotts, in desperate need for comfort. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen the way he wanted it to. When he got to the frat house and knocked on the older boy’s bedroom door, it took 3 seconds for it to swing open, Eliott take once glance at Lucas and then wrap him in his arms. He’s Eliott, he just always knows. 

It was enjoyable, Lucas allowed himself to let go and just  _ feel  _ the strong, loving and caring arms around him. Where he found solace and always felt safe.  _ This  _ was good,  _ this  _ was what he wanted. The mistake made was when he decided total honesty would be a nice route to take instead of sweeping it away with a brief,  _ “I don’t want to talk about it.”  _

It started with him murmuring into Eliotts chest, “I saw James,” and then the arms that were snaked tightly around his shoulders were all of a sudden pushed between them and Lucas was standing that much distance away. 

“What?” Eliott asks, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

“I’m fine, Eliott, we just talked.” Lucas tries to return to his previous position pressed against his boyfriend's body, but Eliott’s not having it. He steps away, starts pacing the room. 

“What did you talk about?” 

Lucas furrows his eyebrows. “He just wanted my help, that’s all.”

“Help with what?"

“Why are you asking so many questions?” 

“Why are you being so vague?” 

“I’m not-- I don’t have to explain anything to you, Eliott, you know that, right?” 

This makes the older guy whip his head around, his eyes wide and upset. He’s offended. “Oh, sorry for giving a fuck about you, Lucas, shit.” He says harshly, and the angry tone of voice causes Lucas to reel back, affronted. He didn’t come here to fight, actually he had no idea that this is what was going to happen. And for a second he contemplates apologizing, letting this entire thing go so that they can just curl up in bed and watch a movie or something because honestly, it’s all he fucking wants. But he’s mad now. 

“Okay well you can do that without being an overbearing ass.” Perhaps it wasn’t his most mature response, but oh well, it’s not like he can go back now. “I didn’t peg you to be so controlling.”

If looks could kill, Lucas would be dead. But not because of the heat behind Eliott’s glare, more because of the flash of hurt that crosses over his features for a split second before turning into just-- sheer vexation. “Right, because we all know how great a judge of character you are?” And  _ ouch,  _ okay, that one hurt a little. “And that’s not being controlling, Lucas, I’m fucking trying to look out for you.” 

“I don’t need you to look out for me!” _ He doesn’t need anyone to look out for him.  _

“So, what? I’m just supposed to let this jackass hurt you again?” It’s not a yell, or an overprotective remark, it’s genuine worry and perturb. But Lucas has heard this before and he’s so  _ fucking exhausted by it  _ that even with the slight vulnerability that hinted Eliott’s voice, Lucas can’t seem to stop himself from chiding back a rather sharp, “Fuck, he’s not going to hurt me again, Jesus.” Because he’s annoyed. Mostly with himself for having no self control, but also because this is a sensitive subject for him, and he knows better now than to expect any sort of empathetic response. In fact, he prepares himself for hostility and noses turned up in judgement, but he had thought that with the way their first conversation went, things would be different with Eliott. They’re not, apparently, which seems to be the running theme for the night. 

Now he’s back to having to explain himself, and, yes, he’s getting a little defensive but only because he handled a fucking lot by himself. Without anyone knowing, without any help from the outside, he handled it. And yes, that was mostly due to him refusing to tell anyone, but he did it alone nonetheless, until he reached his breaking point and acknowledged that they were too far gone and there was nothing he could do except get out. So it’s frustrating for him when his friends and Eliott talk about wanting to protect him as if he’s some frail, delicate little kid who doesn’t know how to take care of himself.

That being said, he understands their need to “look out for him”, because he knows he would do the same if the situations were reversed. But since his go-to reaction for the last year has been to immediately fight and defend, that’s what he does, and sadly ends up acting like a dick when there was no reason for it. Which is why as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, his snappy ass reply, he knew without a doubt that he walked himself right into Eliott’s own response, so he can’t even be fucking upset about it when Eliott rebukes with, “I’m sure you thought that after the first time, right?”

Except, back to this whole “no self control” thing, it does piss him off, even more so than he already was. “That’s not fair and you know it.” 

“Isn’t it? Because you know what to expect out of him now, so I can’t fucking understand why you’re so adament on putting yourself back there.” 

_ Where the fuck--  _ Lucas narrows his eyes, his lips form a thin line. “I didn’t say I wanted to put myself back there. Why the fuck would I want to go through all of that again?” 

“Well, fuck, Lucas, I don’t know, there’s no telling with you at this point.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Eliott stares at him, his eyes hard and Lucas mirrors it. He bites his lip, waits for a response, but Eliott shakes his head, turns around to face away from Lucas and runs fingers through his hair. “Nothing.”

“No, Eliott. What does it mean?” 

There’s a lot of suspense built up at this point, Lucas feels like if this were a movie then he’d be at the edge of his seat in anticipation. A loud silence and tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. He hears Eliott sigh, and Lucas himself gulps as he stands there, willing the other boy to say something. 

Alas, “Should I be worried?” 

Normally, if this were asked at literally any other moment in time when they weren’t legitimately arguing and screaming at each other, Lucas would take pity on Eliott’s insecurities and naturally reassure him with soft whispers and sweet kisses, telling him,  _ no, of course not,  _ because 1, he could only ever have eyes for Eliott at this point, and 2, it should be obvious that the relationship was toxic and unsafe for him, no way would he ever even dream about being back there. 

But right now it’s not an innocent insecurity, it’s a low blow and punch in the fucking stomach, meant to hurt Lucas. It’s an accusation. 

Eliott goes on, “Because the way you talk about him, the way you insist on defending him and saying that he’s such a good person, despite everything. Good people don’t fucking abuse their partners, Lucas, and yet you don’t seem to comprehend that.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“I’m just saying, it’s not completely farfetched for it to be something I’m concerned about.” 

“Except you’re not actually fucking concerned about it, Eliott, you’re just acting like a dick right now for no reason!” Lucas screams. “And yes it is farfetched because you apparently are so keen on believing I have  _ that _ little amount of respect for myself!” 

“Can you blame me? Because before we met, you weren’t exactly—“ 

“Stop.” Lucas interrupts. His arms are held stiffly by his sides, hands clenched in tight little fists. His eyes are closed as he tries to ground himself, calm himself, breathe, and then he holds up a hand and looks at Eliott. “I’m gonna leave before you say something you can’t take back.” He says, “So whatever the next words out of your mouth are better be seriously fucking thought out, or I don’t want to hear them.” He turns his head away because it’s easier than looking at Eliott right now, see the audacity that he has to imply that Lucas  _ would ever.  _ He doesn’t stop to turn around when he’s shutting the door behind him, and when he’s out he wastes no time in hastily exiting the house, ignoring all calls of his name from the other brothers, and begins his tread to the only other place where he knows for a fact that something like  _ that  _ isn’t going to happen again, because  _ that  _ was a fucking disaster. 

So Yann's it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty nervous abt this one


	12. Lost in the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always thankful for confusedconnor for editing 
> 
> chapter title - lost in the light, bahamas.

Eliott paces back and forth in his room, from his bed to his wall, bed to wall. His breaths are coming in short and harsh, his bottom lip tastes like blood from how hard he’s biting down on it, and frankly he’s surprised his hair isn’t coming out in clumps what with the tightness he’s gripping it. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck just happened, how it all escalated so quickly and why his brain-to-mouth cordination suddenly stopped fucking working; saying dumb shit when he shouldn’t have, and staying quiet when he was supposed to have been rushing to undo all the strings of shit he just unraveled. 

Fucking A, he’s pissed, he just doesn’t know who more at. Could be himself for being such a piece of shit boyfriend and knowing exactly which buttons to press to get under Lucas’ skin; could be Lucas for being a shitty boyfriend and basically choosing his asshole of an ex over Eliott; or could be James because he’s somehow managed to weasel his way into Lucas and Eliott’s relationship and cause the divide that is their current predicament. Logically, and in a way that would be much,  _ much  _ easier, he could pin all the blame on James because really, they wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for him, or he could even blame Lucas a little because it really  _ is  _ bullshit how he’s going about this, putting himself at more risk than necessary by still being in touch with James and refusing to cut ties,  _ and then  _ allowing it to get to the point they’re at and fighting with Eliott about it. 

Those are both fair options, but unfortunately, and realistically, since Eliott is nothing if not someone who faults himself for everything wrong in the world, he convinces himself it’s all his doing. Because who else could it be? He’s the one who badgered Lucas with questions he knew he wasn’t going to get satisfiable answers to after his first one was answered with such  _ nonchalance,  _ and yet he still decided to push anyway. He’s the one who implied— no,  _ accused  _ Lucas of cheating on him, whether with James or some other jackass. He’s the one who allowed himself to be so overcome with jealousy and insecurity that he picked a fight with Lucas the second the opportunity presented itself.  _ He’s  _ really the shitty boyfriend if he thinks about it, Lucas was just defending himself and the things he believed in, and it’s perfectly understandable that he would— 

_ No.  _ No, no, no,  _ no.  _ Eliott is allowed to care, of course he’s allowed to fucking care,  _ he loves Lucas.  _ He’s  _ in _ love with Lucas, and if anything ever happened to the younger boy because Eliott didn’t speak his mind and express his concerns about Lucas’ relationship with his  _ abusive, drug addicted ex,  _ then he’d never forgive himself. 

It’s important for him to remember this, and he has to constantly remind all the damn voices in his head that  _ he didn’t actually do anything wrong. _ His worries aren’t these crazy, impossibly far-fetched things that were conjured up from his tendencies to overreact. He’s legitimately, genuinely troubled about Lucas and his involvement with James because  _ James has already hurt Lucas before.  _ Like,  _ actually _ hurt him. Physically and aggressively and forcibly. It would be one thing if Eliott was making a big deal out of this when James  _ hadn’t  _ gotten to that point yet, but he has. Multiple times. So his anxiety and his unsettlement about this is perfectly within reason. He won’t apologize for worrying about Lucas’ wellbeing; he refuses to. 

Only, with all that being said, he finds himself not only physically pacing back and forth, but mentally pacing as well. Because, if he thinks about it, he never really gave Lucas a chance to explain himself or his and James’ sudden reunion, Eliott just kind of exploded and went straight into Overprotective Boyfriend Mode and demanded to know e _ xactly  _ what happened, and then proceeded to judge and act like a dick as soon as it became clear he was  _ not  _ going to get what he wanted.

But Lucas is stubborn,  _ as a fucking mule,  _ and he felt trapped, threatened, like a dog being backed into a corner and the only thing he knew to do about it was attack; bite back. Eliott can’t blame him for that because he knows what it’s like, to feel so suffocated by a measly question, an innocent topic that's just  _ so fucking triggering _ . He knows how it feels to be so overwhelmed and bombarded with things that people  _ just keep  _ bringing up, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him, how much he hates the fucking thought of it. And so he reacts. 

Eliott’s been there. Hell, he’s still going there and he'll probably be back sometime in the near future. 

However, unfortunately for Lucas, Eliott is stubborn too and he doesn't give up easily, which is why he stops pacing his room, stops trying to pierce a hole in his lip with his teeth and rip out his hair, and he slips on his shoes and grabs his keys off the desk before he can come to his senses and talk himself out of it because  _ the last thing _ he’s going to do is let Lucas push him away due to how badly James fucked him up, or allow  _ his own  _ insecurities and self loathing ways to be the reason he loses Lucas for good. 

The drive to Lucas’ apartment feels like it takes him a lot longer than it needed to. The lights were too long, the cars in front of him were too slow, the distance was too far. Until finally,  _ finally  _ he pulled into the complex and before he knew it was standing outside below the boy’s window. It all reminds him of the night he had broken up with Lucille and stood in this very spot throwing pebbles at the glass in hopes he had picked the right room. The only difference was, Lucas had answered that night. He doesn’t answer tonight. Not to the pebbles, not to the 2 calls Eliott makes to him that inevitably got sent to voicemail, not to Eliott’s text that so desperately read, 

_ I’m sorry, please talk to me. I’m outside, I needed to see you. I’m so fucking sorry, Lu, I’m an idiot.  _

After a third attempt at calling, it’s becoming painfully evident to Eliott now that Lucas is ignoring him and  _ that—  _ is not something he really loves the feeling of, if he’s being completely honest here. And so this, apparently, is where the doubt starts setting in. 

Perhaps Eliott fucked up a lot more than he had originally anticipated. Maybe this is it, maybe Lucas took one look at this dumbass fucking argument and decided  _ it’s not worth it.  _ Because why would it be? Eliott is— Eliott is a lot to handle, too much sometimes, and Lucas probably sees this now. He sees the insane insecurities and the high maintenance of Eliott’s constant need to be reassured. He sees the clinginess, jealousy, and the occasional possessiveness. He sees the fear and the overreactions and the way Eliott has to make things so needlessly complicated. 

Eliott wouldn’t even want to date himself. He was asking a lot of Lucas, if he’s being real, so he doesn’t exactly blame the boy for backing out now. Lucas saw his opportunity and he took it.

His thoughts are interrupted by his phone pinging in his hand, and he’s not even embarrassed by how fast he turned it over and held it up to his face to see the screen, only to immediately be filled with dread and regret before another text came in, eased him only slightly.

**_lucallemamt_ **

_ I’m not at home right now. _

_ I’m at Yann’s _

Should Eliott go? He should go, right? Lucas isn’t ignoring him, he told Eliott where he was at so maybe this means Eliott’s allowed to come, maybe this means something a little better than what Eliott was thinking only a mere few seconds ago. Maybe—

Another text comes in, a third one, and though it’s not what Eliott really wanted to hear, it’s not like he really has a choice. 

**_lucallemant_ **

_ I told him about James. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk, I promise. I’m sorry too.  _

The positive thing is, Lucas is telling Yann about James. Hopefully everything, and Eliott is proud of him, he’s happy that Lucas is finally talking about it with his friends and isn’t keeping it a secret anymore. This is good. How can Eliott find it himself to be bitter about anything when this is what he’s wanted for Lucas all along? He just wishes it were under different circumstances because he can’t help but feel his and Lucas’ argument pushed the boy over the edge to this point. 

—

—

When Eliott used to rely on Lucille all the time, it was because he needed to feel safe and loved and accepted. He needed a  _ home,  _ and he knew that no matter what, it was unconditional in Lucille, even with all the problems and toxicity of their relationship, Eliott knew it was a given. It was unhealthy, yes, for both of them, but he didn’t care about that at the time, he just needed the security and reassurance. And he thought that since what he found in Lucas was unlike anything he’d felt with anyone else, Lucille included, he didn’t need her anymore, he needed Lucas. He wanted Lucas, because Lucas made him feel good, made him feel things that were completely and utterly unmatched. And when Eliott thought about  _ that,  _ he knew that he could stick this out and deal with it instead of running away because he was too scared to get hurt. And he doesn’t even  _ want  _ Lucille, he doesn’t want anyone except for Lucas. He can’t imagine finding that same feeling of contentment anywhere else except for Lucas’ arms. 

Eliott is  _ sure  _ about this, it’s just— and it sounds so fucking dumb, he knows this, but it’s just that calling Lucille when he’s having doubts about his relationships, when he’s scared and the overwhelming fear of abandonment completely overcomes him to the point where he’s making reckless decisions, it’s happened so many times, so often, that it just feels like a natural instinct to turn to her for the support he needs. 

And he meant it when he said he didn’t want her, he only wanted Lucas but— it’s so fucking hard to feel reassured and wanted in all of this when Lucas  _ promised  _ he’d call today so they could talk and he just hasn’t. And Eliott knows he has school, he knows that there’s no way they could fit a decent conversation in between classes, but  _ still.  _ A text? Something? He just needs a tiny little sign from the boy that  _ everything is going to be okay between them.  _

So he is fucking scared because he feels like he’s got nothing here, like he’s working with nothing, and he’s trying really fucking hard not to let it get to that point where it will indubitibly fuck up any hope of him and Lucas, but like he said, it’s difficult. 

He’s got an hour before his next class so he agreed to spend it eating lunch with the guys, only, he’s unable to make himself join in on their usual rowdy behaviors. He just doesn't feel like it today, and the anxiety that’s currently festering inside of him due to his lack of knowledge on whether or not he’s going to remain having a boyfriend by the end of the day is just  _ really fucking draining him. _ He hates it, because he doesn't want to feel this way and he doesn't like not knowing what's going on, and he hates it even more because it's so obvious that he sticks out like a sore thumb when he’s surrounded by his friends. They're all laughing and happy and fucking around doing stupid, childish shit like stealing fries off of each other's plates, and using their straws to spitball back and forth, and Eliott  _ wants so badly  _ to laugh too, to just shoot his own spitball right in between Alex’s eyebrows but it's not happening, his mind is too occupied, too busy stressing, because that's what Eliott does best - stress. 

He’s got one elbow resting on the table, his chin propped up on his hand as he stares down at his sandwich, lazily picking the onions off with his other hand. He’s not paying much attention to what the boys are saying around him, but he does notice the sudden silence, and he cocks one eyebrow as he peers up to see. They’re all looking at him, watching curiously and he can’t help but squirm a little in his seat at the attention. “What?” 

“Dude, are you okay? You’re acting weird,” Alex says. His face is neutral but Eliott thinks he spies some concern laced in those dark brown eyes. 

“I’m not acting weird?” 

“Idriss just went on a full blown rant about how art is overrated, all because he’s failing his class since apparently he’s just not pretentious enough to see the obscurities of all their weird, hipster, edgy designs when really it’s just because he sucks and isn’t trying  _ at all,  _ and you didn’t speak up on it once.” 

Eliott glances over at Idriss who’s already eyeing him expectantly, and he knows he should speak up, say something that he’d normally say had he been in a better mood, but instead all that comes out is, “Sorry, I guess I’m just tired.” 

Idriss smirks, “Late night with Lulu, huh?” 

_ I wish,  _ Eliott thinks, but unfortunately he didn’t even get that. 

“Everything okay with you two?” Sofiane questions softly, full of nothing but genuine care, and Eliott can only bring himself to murmur a vague and halfhearted, “Yeah,” and definitely doesn’t miss the way Sofiane’s eyes flit over to Alex’s as they share some secret communication thing. 

“Are you sure?” 

Eliott’s not stupid, and his friends certainly aren’t either. They know, and he knows they know, and even with that he still answers with a small, “Yeah, why?” because he’s still trying to convince them everything is fine. For what reason, he doesn’t know, because his friends have always been able to see straight through his bullshit. Always. 

“Eliott.” Alex voices, leveling him with a look that says he knows Eliott knows he knows, and he’s not having it. His tone leaves no room for beating around the bush. 

But as Eliott said before, he’s stubborn, and he won’t admit his fuck up, especially not to Alex of all people because Alex knew this was going to happen. Alex knew from the very fucking beginning. 

Sofiane clears his throat. “Eli, we, uh— we heard what happened…” 

“Okay,” Eliott says calmly, but he can feel something swelling up inside him and he doesn’t know if it's all the pent up tension or what, but he feels like he’s ready to explode; just scream. “What happened?” He wants to hear what they think they know. 

“The walls are thin, Eli, and you two weren’t exactly whispering at each other.” 

It’s such a gentle tone, not accusing, not patronizing, no judgement. It’s said with so much understanding, and with so much ease, and yet, Eliott shakes his head, throws his face in his hands. He  _ so  _ does not want to have this conversation. No matter how nice Sofiane is being. 

And he’s not sure what it is, what makes him flip out so suddenly or what finally broke the dam of emotions building up inside of him, but when Alex starts and says, “Dude,” and it’s immediately followed up with, “I  _ told  _ you—“ Eliott doesn’t even let him finish. 

“Yeah, I fucking know, Alex!” he snaps, throwing his head up and flailing his arms out. There’s so much fucking  _ heat  _ inside of him, he can feel it. “You knew I was gonna fuck it up  _ somehow,  _ I don’t need to hear you say it. We all fucking knew, it was only a matter of time. I fucked this up just like I did every other damn relationship I’ve had. It’s not surprising. No one’s fucking surprised, I—“ he cuts himself off, a thick lump in his throat as he gulps and his eyes are fixed on his lap. He mutters, more to himself than anything, weak and quiet and broken, “I fucked it up.” 

The silence that falls around him feels harsh and tense. He doesn’t dare look up, can’t find it in him to see the pitying looks on any of their faces. After what feels like an eternity, but was probably only a few small minutes, Alex speaks up. 

“That’s not what I was going to say, man. I meant—“ he pauses, and Eliott assumes it’s to sort out his thoughts. “I meant, with James. I knew this was going to happen with James. That guy is a fucking  _ leach _ and he just latches onto Lucas when he needs something and just fucking weighs him down, and weighs him down and sucks out every ounce of happiness and strength in Lucas until he can’t fucking take it anymore, and then James decides he’s taken all he wants and fucks off again, only to come back when he needs something else. He’s the absolute worst thing for Lucas on this entire planet, and I don’t blame you for reacting how you did.” 

Eliott stares at him, his eyes wide with disbelief because he wasn’t expecting that one bit. To say he’s taken aback would be an understatement, and he’s completely and utterly speechless, has no idea what to say or what to even  _ think,  _ so all he can do is just stare and stare and stare, and then the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “What?” 

He feels Sofiane’s hand on his shoulder, and it’s a nice, soothing weight that grounds him more than he expected it to, brings him back into his own body. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” Sof tells him. “I know how you think, I know you’ve gone over this argument in every possible way and it always leads to something you did wrong, somehow, someway, you’ve figured out how to fault yourself with every single outcome. It’s not your fault, Eliott.” 

He starts shaking his head again. “Sof, I should have just fucking let him explain it without freaking out on him—“ 

“We’re not saying you couldn’t have handled the situation better,” Alex chimes in, and Eliott turns his gaze. “But we all love Lucas, and we’ve all been here with him before. Fuck, it’s the only thing him and I have  _ ever  _ argued about, so I understand how upset you feel, how frustrated you feel. The kid doesn’t fucking take advice for shit.” And for the first time all day, Eliott cracks a small smile,  _ because it’s true.  _

Sofiane laughs too, but it’s brief, too quick and then his face is serious and his voice is weighty when he adds, “He’s not going to listen to us, Eli, and as much as I hate to say it, he’s just gonna have to figure it out on his own.” 

Eliott doesn’t like that. He disagrees,  _ strongly,  _ but doesn’t voice his opinion. Instead changing the subject only slightly, and opting with, “What the fuck am I supposed to say to him after last night to make any of this even slightly better.” 

“Nothing,” Idriss voices simply, and he’s been so quiet during this, just listening and observing and taking everything in. Eliott forgot for a short second that he was even there. 

“What?” 

He lets out a breath and leans back on the bench. He chews on his lip as he considers Eliott, squints his eyes and it’s the deepest in thought Eliott has ever seen him for as long as they've been friends. “You don’t have to say anything. You didn’t react any differently than what the rest of us would have—  _ or have,” _ he explains, and Alex hums along from his side. “Who’s the one Lucas is in a relationship with?” Eliott crinkles his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Eh… me?” 

“Exactly. And who’s the one who  _ was  _ in a relationship with him but fucked it up because he turned into a horrible person who treated Lucas like shit?” 

“James...” 

“ _ Exactly.  _ You’re better than him, Eliott, because  _ you do  _ actually give a shit about Lucas, and I’m positive that there’s not a single person on this entire planet who could treat him better, and love him better than you can. And if Lucas doesn’t know that by now, then fuck him. You’d be better off without him if that’s the case.” 

“Idriss,” Sofiane warns under his breath. 

“What? I’m not wrong. I love Lucas,  _ you know  _ that I love him but you can’t tell me that you don’t think this is fucked up for Eliott. It’s not fair how he’s the one getting punished here when all he did was tell Lucas that he didn’t like him hanging out with his ex who  _ used to hit him.” _

Well, it’s not that Eliott’s completely innocent here because  _ he did  _ say hurtful things, but he appreciates Idriss’ words nonetheless. He’s right. 

Idriss continues, finishing up with a very passionate and demanding, “Stop worrying about how  _ you’re  _ going to fix it. Lucas is the one who should be apologizing to you, not the other way around.” 

Eliott is, yet again, speechless, and if the other boy’s silence is anything to go by, so are they. Alex starts with a slow, joking clap to ease the tension that built up around them and it doesn’t take long for the rest to burst into fits of laughter and cheers because they’ve  _ never  _ seen Idriss get so worked up over something,  _ so much _ , but here it was. Eliott finds his eye, a small nod to express his gratitude because he’s not sure of any words that can actually do it, and Idriss nods back;  _ you’re welcome.  _

—

—

Chatting with the guys helped. He doesn't feel  _ completely  _ better, but he feels a little bit better, and especially after he decided to listen to Idriss in that he shouldn't stress himself about apologizing to Lucas and instead make Lucas come to him. Except, that still stresses him out in itself because what if Lucas  _ doesn't  _ come to him? Then what the fuck is he supposed to do?

And he still feels guilty, despite the emotional, heart warming words that his friends said to him, how they told him he didn't do anything wrong, how they promised him it wasn't his fault, he’s going to feel guilty about it because that's just who Eliott is. And he tries not to, tries to get himself out of this frame of mind that he won't be okay without Lucas, he tries to tell himself that whatever happens, he'll get through it. However long it takes, whatever he had to go through, he’ll be okay in the end. He tells himself that over and over and  _ over  _ again, but the fact is, he’s not going to be able to calm down, like,  _ really  _ calm down and take an actual breath until he talks to Lucas. 

He  _ hates it.  _ He hates it so fucking much that he’s once again so overly dependant on someone, because this is the last thing he wanted and he knew it was going to happen anyways, knew that as soon as Lucas gave him a chance it would turn into this just like he got too dependant on Lucille. And every time he thinks about  _ that,  _ he feels even more guilty because it's like everything is finally coming to light; how poorly he treated her, how unfair he was to her, how toxic he probably was for her. He feels like he should call her, just to— just to see how she’s doing and if she’s happy, but then he thinks she’s probably better off without him, too. 

It's all too much stress for him, too much thinking and too much worrying and too much of the little voices inside his head arguing with each other on how he should feel. 

He doesn’t end up going to class after lunch, but that's only because he’s still so tense and on edge and his mind is everywhere that it’s  _ not  _ supposed to be so he wouldn't be able to focus on anything, anyway. So he goes back to the house and the first thing he does when he steps inside is throw his bag on his bed and start cleaning. He begins in his room, but since he keeps it fairly tidy anyways it doesn't take him long, and then he moves to the living room, clearing up abandoned glasses and empty beer bottles. Shirts that the guys have thrown down, jackets they've tossed in the direction of the coat rack but missed poorly. He straightens out the cushions, fluffs the pillows, vacuums the rugs and then sweeps the floors. After that, he moves into the kitchen, and then the downstairs bathrooms and then the  _ up _ stairs bathrooms, and he’s in the middle of scrubbing the walls of one of the shower stalls when his phone starts going off in his pocket, blasting out the  _ xylophone _ ringtone. 

He pauses before he does anything, and his heart beats rapidly in his chest. He swallows, slowly takes off one of the rubber gloves he’s wearing and languidly reaches into his pants. He’s ashamed of the twinge of disappointment he feels when he sees it's not in fact Lucas’ name that pops up on his screen, but his mom's. He answers with a forced smile, but still manages to find some joy inside of him because his mom is his mom and her voice can more often than not bring him warmth when all he feels is cold and damp. 

“Hello?” 

_ “Hey, baby, just checking on you. I haven't heard from you in a few days.”  _

“Yeah, eh— sorry, school’s been kicking my ass.” 

” _That so?”_ She doesn’t sound like she believes him very well but doesn’t try to push.  _ “Well if you find time to stop by the house this week, your sister’s making cupcakes for a party her teacher’s throwing for their class and I bet she might let you steal a couple before.”  _

It pulls a laugh out of him; a breathy chuckle that’s more genuine than anything he’s felt all day. He smiles softly, “What kind of cupcakes?” 

_ “Strawberry.” _

“With chocolate icing?”

_ “With chocolate icing.”  _

“Hm,” he pretends to contemplate, “Yeah, I might find some time to do that.” 

He hears his mother release a tiny titter.  _ “Bring Lucas with you, we can have dinner, too. Your father and I are dying to meet him, and you know how Mase is with needing to approve or disapprove of everything.”  _

He closes his eyes, licks his lips and wills his voice to sound like he hasn't been on the verge of tears the entirety of the day. “I already have Mase’s approval so I think it’ll be okay,” 

_ “Eliott Demaury! Do not tell me that your 9 year old little sister has already met this boy before I have.”  _

“It was a while ago!” He tries to defend. 

_ “A while ago? That makes it worse!”  _ She's completely kidding, and her lightheartedness makes  _ Eliott  _ feel a little lighthearted as well.  _ “Now I would like to meet this Lucas ASAP!” _ She attempts to scold, but Eliott can hear the grin on her lips better than anything. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

_ “Alright, now I have to go help your father with dinner, but we love you. Mase says she loves you.”  _

“I love you guys.” 

_ “Bye, sweetie.” _

He hangs up, a smile gracing his lips, and it feels good; he feels good. He doesn't feel  _ great,  _ but he doesn't feel totally hopeless, either. 

For the time being.

—

—

_ Somehow _ he let himself be conned into a “guys night” with some of the other brothers, that consisted of nothing but playing video games and drinking. Only, for Eliott, they had all made it a  _ strict rule  _ that he was _ not,  _ under any circumstances, allowed to be given even  _ an ounce  _ of alcohol. And then Alex, being the caring and,  _ smartass friend that he was,  _ took it upon himself to reassure Eliott it had nothing to do with the fact that he really shouldn't even be drinking too much in the first place, but,  _ “There’s no way in hell I’m going to be responsible for whatever drunk texts your emotional ass sends tonight.”  _ And really, Eliott can’t even blame him. 

Unfortunately, since he can’t drink, and  _ doesn’t  _ play video games at all, he’s left to be squished into the side of the couch while an overenthusiastic Alex is getting  _ a little too into _ his game with Idriss. His arms are flailing everywhere, bumping into Eliott’s side and splashing apple juice out of his cup for the third time now, and every time Alex’s character on the screen turns left or right, Alex moves with him as if that’s possibly going to do anything other than push Eliott even further into the sofa arm. 

He sits there grumpily, an unsatisfied frown carved into his mouth as he alternates between glaring at the TV screen, and glaring at Alex. The other guys in the room whoop and holler around them and Eliott huffs out bitter breaths over and over again, each one getting deeper and louder and inadvertently more dramatic. Or maybe not, maybe he’s doing that on purpose. 

Alex pretends not to notice, and Eliott  _ knows  _ he’s pretending because he can see Alex glancing at him out of his peripheral every time it happens but he says nothing and continues playing each time. Sofiane notices too, apparently because just as Eliott let out a particularly long sigh and rested his cheek on his fist boredly, Sof announces, “Eliott gets winner!” To which Eliott immediately turned his glare to, as Sofiane just smirked at him and shrugged. 

“Easy,” Alex snorts, and Eliott nudges him in his ribs hard enough to knock him into Patrick on his other side. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Dude, you suck.”

“I do not!” He looks over to Sofiane to back him up, but the guy only bows his head in avoidance and Eliott grumbles, “Fuck off,” once more. He knows he sucks. 

 

Turns out that whether he’s actually any good at gaming or not, doesn’t matter. Not tonight, at least, because once the controller gets put in his hands and he has Idriss standing behind him, talking him through every move, which buttons to press, which weapons to use, which direction to run, he finds himself having more fun than he wanted to let himself have. 

It was all distracting enough,  _ in that moment,  _ that the only thing he was focused on was the game, and with that he finally allowed himself to just  _ let loose.  _ All day he’d been so worried, so upset, so mad at himself that he’d barely let himself feel anything other than the negativity that was inside of him. But at 11 o’clock at night in a living room filled with a bunch of drunk frat boys who are spending their time together specifically to try and cheer up one of their brothers because he's down, Eliott feels like he can't  _ not _ be at least a little happy about it, he can't  _ not _ let himself feel at least a little of it. 

He looks around him, takes in the boys sprawled out on the floor, on the back of the couches, chairs from the dining room tables pulled up, and he thinks about the 4 consecutive games he just lost, and how fun it was to lose, and he realizes he hasn't thought about Lucas  _ once  _ during any of this. He’s proud of himself. Even if it has only been a couple of hours in this now-officially-24-hour-long hazy area of their relationship.

He’s an overthinker, an overreacter, and sometimes it makes a real recipe for disaster, but he thinks today went pretty okay under the circumstances. 

 

It’s 12:13, his head is buried in the refrigerator as he seeks out something good to eat. Everyone's still playing games in the living room but he was hungry, so he took a break to rage their cabinets and so far he’s come up empty, save for a bag of cookies Sofiane keeps on the top shelf behind champagne glasses that are only used for special occasions. He reaches for the gallon of milk, his phone vibrating in his pocket at the same time and he shoves the other half of the cookie in his mouth to free up his hand for better access.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles around a mouth full of sweets.  _ “Fuck,  _ fuck, fuck, fuck,” He throws the gallon of milk on the counter, barely remembers to shut the refrigerator door back, and runs into the other room with his phone still vibrating in his hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

Half the guys look at him, those who aren't too preoccupied in the TV screen, and Alex raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “What?” 

Eliott throws his hand out, his eyes wide and panicking as he points his phone to his friends, despite being several feet apart. “L-Lucas!” He exclaims like it should be obvious. “He’s calling me!” 

“Answer it, dumbass!” 

“What do I say?!” 

“Hello, for starters.” 

“This is a bad idea, I’m just going to fuck it up. He’s gonna break up with me, he’s gonna hate me, he—“ 

“Eliott! Answer!” 

Right, right. He slowly turns the phone back to himself, stares at it like he’s scared of it, and then with heavy hands and deep, uneven breaths, he pressed the green button and holds it up to his ear. “H-Hello?” 

_ “Eliott,” _ Lucas breathes, and he sounds relieved, and Eliott can’t help but nearly melt at the sound of his voice. 

“Hi.” 

The line is quiet, and if it weren’t for the small, nearly inaudible puffs of air going straight into the speaker Eliott might have thought he got hung up on. 

_ “I’m sorry for calling so late, I know I promised you we’d talk earlier, but I— I got held up.”  _

It’s a reflex, a natural instinct. Eliott asks, “Is everything okay?” Even though he knows he should be upset - he has  _ a right  _ to be upset, he doesn’t have to give in so easily. 

_ “Yeah— well, I’m hoping, uh— are you busy? Can you talk?”  _

“Of course, um… I can come over? Or I can get you, and we can go somewhere.” 

He thinks he hears Lucas smile.  _ “I’d like that. I, uh—“  _ the latter clears his throat,  _ “I’d really like to see you.”  _

“Yeah.” Eliott agrees softly, in almost a whisper, “Me too.” 

When he hangs up he turns back to the room to find all eyes on him. Everyone watching him, waiting, expectant looks on their faces. Alex is the first one to speak up. “Well?” 

Eliott swallows. “He wants to see me.” 

5 words. 5 simple words that could mean literally anything, be taken in any way, lead to multiple different scenarios (both good and not so good) and they make an entire house of frat boys burst into cheers.

 “Wait, but— what do I do?” Eliott asks, raising his voice a small amount so that it can be heard over everyone else. 

“What do you mean ‘what do you do?’ You go to him!” 

Someone speaks up, one of the other brothers, and Eliott turns his head to meet their eyes. “Yeah, but not yet. Wait like an hour.” 

“Right, you don’t want to come off too desperate.” Another one adds. There’s a small chorus of agreement, but Eliott hears a few protests in there, too. “Just like, be chill about it, like—“ he makes a face and gestures with his hand in a way Eliott assumes is supposed to mean ‘chill.’ “You know, dude, chill.” And right, Eliott forgets just how typical ‘fratboy’ these guys can be sometimes. 

Alex wrinkles his face in distaste. “Don’t listen to them. Lucas isn’t going to think you’re desperate, bro, and even if he does, who cares? You’re just trying to get your relationship back on track, so what if you’re maybe a little eager?”  _ Eager?  _

“Yeah but just don’t seem  _ too  _ eager.” The first guy chimes, and the second guy follows with, “But also don’t argue. Just nod and agree with whatever he says and you’ll be done and off the hook in no time!” And okay, Eliott’s definitely not going to take that advice. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Alex stands up, shaking his head as he steps over messes of limbs and other body parts to get to Eliott. He puts a hand on Eliott’s shoulder, squeezes. “Dude, they’re idiots and they don’t know what they’re talking about. That’s why neither of them have girlfriends.” He says, “Talk to Lucas, tell him how you feel. Just be honest.” 

Eliott inhales slowly and nods. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, readies himself, exhales.  _ He can do this.  _ “Okay,” he sighs, “Okay, I’m going.” 

The cheers start back up, a few whistles, some claps, a couple guys yell out, “You can do it!” But Eliott’s focus is trained on Alex who’s smiling at him reassuringly and patting his back, and then Eliott looks behind him at Sofiane and Idriss who look equally supportive; Idriss nods his head once, telling Eliott  _ it’s okay.  _

And Eliott feels good about it. He’s going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the person who commented about a week ago & said it had been two months & was i still here, thank you immensely for helping me get back into my groove. like so much, thank you.
> 
> next chapter’s halfway done so it shouldn’t be as long a wait.
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr :) @spn-skam

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think with some comments & kudos :)))


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